


Ashnar Urcir

by Arwen00710



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, clone feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen00710/pseuds/Arwen00710
Summary: On Kamino, a clone with blurred words on his chest begins to dream about sand, heat, and pain.Elsewhere, a man with the matching soulmark dreams about freedom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fanfic is born thanks to the awesome [Norcumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi). I sent her a prompt named Equivalent Exchange which she fufilled [here](http://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/153192090894/pumpkin-lith-equivalent-exchange-for-this) and the inspiration bit me, HARD.  
> She egged me on, accepted to Beta it and be generally AMAZING and then, tadaaa.
> 
> I said I would post the first chapter if I hit 50k by the time NaNo ended, even if I started it on the 15th.  
> Guess what ? I NaNo'ed in half the time. So here, first chapter ! Hope you enjoy it !

* * *

The dreams started when he was very young, still only a cadet, still only CT-7567. He did not pay attention, at first. They were not disturbing, even if they were unpleasant.  
He was the first of his brothers to know what sand looked like, what stifling heat was, what real thirst felt like, way before the trainers began sending them in various environmental simulations.  
The dreams were filled with endless sand, endless heat, endless sun that burned the eyes and left the throat dry and aching.  
They were also filled with pain.  
  


* * *

  
Waking up, in a clone's life, was a swift and efficient as everything else. Morning bell, get out of bed, dress up, line up for roll call, quick breakfast, daily training, quick wash, go to sleep, repeat on endless mode.  
But that was the theory, the perfect routine expected by the Kaminoans.  
  
Reality was a bit different.  
  
For the last seven years, it went like this :  
The morning bell would ring and most brothers would wake with a start.  
They would dress.  
CT-5597 would hop on one foot while searching for his boot.  
Said boot would always be under CT-5385's bed, who had light fingers, and he would try to throw it away to avoid being accused one more time.  
Every single day, he would miss and the boot would land on CT-7567's head, startling him awake after he went back to sleep.  
  
« Kriff dammit, 5597, put away your boots ! » he yelled, throwing the boot at CT-5597's head.  
  
Like every morning.  
  
Dragging his hand across his face, he got up, sighing. He dreamt, again, of heat and pain, nothing new. It was, however, tiring.  
  
While putting on his uniform, he looked briefly at the mark on his chest, on the left pectoral, under the collarbone but above the point of the heart.  
Every brother had one, in different places, but they didn't know their meaning.  
  
Some assumed it was another kind of number to ID them.  
Some supposed it was a way for the Kaminoans to differentiate them, even if some locations were pretty weird.  
But they were never used, never talked about, and some of them were not even words.  
  
He shook his head, putting his vest on.  
  
In the afternoon, they were paired up with clones from other batches for an exercise. With two hundred thousands brothers older than his generation, one million the same age, and at least two million younger, it was an evidence that they didn't know all the other clones.  
  
The point of the exercise was to break up the usual squads and to made new ones, where they didn't know each other, and to make sure that their training overcame that issue.  
So CT-7567 was with eight brothers, facing nine other ones, and he wasn't familiar with a single one of them.  
  
Nothing unusual.  
Nothing should have been different.  
Except it was.  
  
Two vode on his squad began to work in sync like they had known each other forever. They were a bit younger than him, a bit less trained, but their sudden flawless teamwork made up for their inexperience and, in the end, brought them the victory.  
  
Later, CT-7567 ended up with them, and the rest of the squad, in the same room, cleaning weapons and using the opportunity to talk.  
  
« How did you know ? » asked the first one of the pair to the other.  
CT-4686-11, that was his number, was in definite need of a shave, facial hair growing awkwardly on his face, the joy of an early puberty.  
« How did YOU know ? » replied the second one, CT-4641-05 if Rex remembered right. « My mark is not in an accessible place, and you had no way to read what it said. »  
  
Turned out that, upon meeting, they said the other's words to each other, despite never seeing those before.  
Moreover, their marks were in the exact same place, under the right foot.  
  
It was the first time Rex witnessed something like that, but not the last, and it was not unheard of among his brothers.  
Two would meet, exchange first words, and they would be the ones on their vod's body.  
And that vod would always become their best friend, their confidant and, as they grew up, sometimes, their lover.  
  
The Kaminoans would not talk about it, were almost upset by it, and so, it was kept quiet, a secret bit of their own culture.  
  
Ashnar Urcir. Those who Met.  
  


* * *

 

  
Other forms of identification, of differentiation, appeared. Hair cuts, tattoos, facial hair.  
More importantly, names.  
  
Their marks, which had once been kept mostly hidden, were sometimes put in display, with the hope that their bearer would find his match.  
Most of them were words.  
  
That was not true for all of them, though. Some brothers had words in unknown languages. Some had images, patterns, fingerprints, music notes, even light spectrums or chemical formulas corresponding to a scent.  
However, Rex was pretty sure that he was the only one, among all his brothers, whose words were blurred.  
  
His mark was words in a strange tongue, unknown and unfound in the library. They were sharply written, like they were carved with the point of a vibroblade, and ink black. Nothing too unusual, except it was like rain had fallen on the wet ink and diluted it..  
  
Rex didn't know what that meant. Maybe his miit'jorir, the one carrying his words, was a brother not yet born, one of the generations to come, when the Kaminoans would try new modifications.  
  


* * *

  
When Rex was eight, as his training was almost done, as he began the waiting for their purpose to be fulfilled, for the Jedi to come and claim them, the dreams changed.  
Gone were the heat and the sand and the thirst, replaced by a golden cage, a place which felt nice, seemed pretty, but was no less than a prison. One he was not allowed, nor capable, of leaving, when he was trapped, feeling furious, but most of all, afraid. Afraid of what he would do once he was let out, like a predator kept hungry to kill without thinking.  
The pain, however, never stopped.  


* * *

  
The very first Jedi the clones met was Grand Master Yoda.  
Rex would have felt guilty for staring when he came to Kamino, except he knew every single one of his brothers was doing the same.  
Not for his height, or his colour, or his strange speech. Those were surprising, of course, but not why they were gobsmacked.  
On the left ear of the strange little Jedi, there were words.  
  
Every brother was able to tell if words on skin were a tattoo, or a mark. There was a... quality to a Ashnar Urcir mark that just felt different.  
For the first time, they were seeing this precious mark on someone else's skin. Someone who was not a brother.  
  
Suddenly, every single strange mark began to make sense. What if everyone had a mark, every single living being on the galaxy ?  
They had never seen those on Kaminoans, but their makers saw outside of the human color spectrum, didn't they ?  
Rex's miit'jorir could be out there, far from Kamino.  
More than ever, the clone felt the call for the stars.  
  
When Master Yoda asked for clones to come to the rescue of the Jedi on Geonosis, he was one of the first to volunteer.  
  
He found the courage to ask the Jedi about the marks just before they reached the planet.  
  
« What are those, Sir ? » he said, with a real curiosity but a fake nonchalance. « The mark on your ear ? Or is it impolite to ask ? »  
  
The Jedi stared at him for a few seconds before answering.  
  
« Soulmarks. » he answered. « When your soulmate you meet, the very first words they will say to you those are. »  
Soulmate. Someone that would be perfect for you, the other half of your soul.  
It fit. They weren't just clones, belonging only with each other.  
They were human beings, they were sentients and there was, somewhere in the galaxy, someone for them, just as they were for someone.  
  
« Have them, you do not ? » continued the old Master.  
« We do, Sir. We were simply never told what they were. »  
  
Rex did not see the scowl on the Grand Master's face as they were nearing a huge arena carved in the rock, where hundreds of lightsabers were parrying bolts and cutting down droids.  
  
After that, thoughts about soulmates, or miit'jorire, were put aside for the moment.  
  
Rex was not about to leave those new, fascinating beings behind, and jumped on the vessel that went after Count Dooku's speeder.  
On board were Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his Padawan Anakin Skywalker and a human woman named Padmé who was as fierce as her two companions.  
  
When the shuttle was hit and she fell, along with Jesse, Rex learned that she was the miit'jorir to Skywalker.  
  
« I will not leave her behind, Master ! She's my soulmate, for Force's sake ! »  
  
Jinn sighed.  
  
« Yes, Anakin, I'm quite aware that she's your soulmate. I was there when you met, I've been the unfortunate witness of your love-filled letters, you ill-advised poems, and your awful pick-up lines. I'm aware, believe me. »  
  
The light dressing down was enough to calm the young Jedi, who gave him a guilty smile.  
  
« Calm yourself, my young Padawan. Padmé is in capable hands, I believe. »  
  
Rex nodded. Jesse would take care of her, protect the Jedi's soulmate.  
  
« She'll be carrying a gun before you know it, and taking names. Let us concentrate on Dooku. »  
  
Correction. It seemed that Jesse and the young woman would share guns, take on the first droid squad they would meet and probably leave a crater behind.  
  
Once they reached the cave carved inside the cliff, things went quickly. Rex only had time to jump out of the aircraft before a missile took it down, sending debris everywhere, one hitting him in the head.  
Note about their armor : they were crap and needed to be upgraded.  
  
The two Jedi ran inside and, even with his ears ringing, Rex managed to hear enough to understand that Dooku was Jinn's former Master.  
Skywalker's hot temper pushed him to rush the fight and Jinn followed soon after.  
Rex opened fire. Shooting while concussed was not a first.  
  
The rest was a blur. Rex remembered flying at high speed towards a wall, barely being able to stand but trying nevertheless to drag the two unconscious Jedi out of the path of a falling pillar, and being pretty sure that he was hallucinating as the pillar began to float.  
After that, blackness.  
  


* * *

  
It's time. The words are ringing through his head. They're harsh, almost metallic, and they seize him.  
He is not in control of his own body anymore.  
He will kill, without choice, without care.  
  


* * *

  
Waking up in medical to the deadly glare of his own face was not a novel experience to Rex.  
  
« Hi, Kix. »  
« Don't Hi Kix me. » growled the medic. « I have a boyfriend making puppy eyes to a Senator after they blew up a command ship, two injured Jedi and an exhausted one, dozens of dead vode, and a very stupid one that got into a head smacking contest WITH A WALL. »  
  
Rex shrugged.  
  
« First time in the field ? » he suggested.  
« You'll note that it was the first time for all of us, and I'm intact. Cody is too, if you were wondering. »  
  
Rex smirked.  
  
« Two vode among all of us, that's not the norm. You're the exception. »  
« If you do not shut up, I'll hit you, » muttered the medic.  
  
They were interrupted by a laugh. Rex froze, as he believed they had been alone. The laugh was not one of his brothers', but Skywalker's.  
  
« It seems Healers are the same everywhere. » said the Jedi.  
« Patients. Bad patients are the same everywhere. » corrected Kix, going to him to check on the bacta cuff around his severed arm.  
  
Kix was the one in the right, there. It didn't take long for Rex to be at ease with the Jedi, either with the easy-going Skywalker or the pragmatic Jinn.  
And when Senator Amidala joined them in the medbay, (and Kix marched off while holding Jesse by the ear), the subject of soulmates came up.  
  
As the clones recently understood, most beings in the galaxy had them. There were variations, of course, for certain species did not have a spoken language. Or for beings for whom skin was a matter of perspective.  
It explained the disparity in his vode's marks, and Rex knew that some of them must have pretty interesting miit'jorire.  
  
Despite the many variations of meaning between races, most of the galaxy still understood that bond through a human-tinted lens, meaning in a very physical way, but it was not always so. Sometimes they were not lovers. Sometimes, the soulmates were the very best of friends, the most close-knit of brothers, formed the absolute partnership.  
  
The Jedi, for example, had hundreds of platonic soulbonds. Most Jedi were celibate, but it was more a matter of tradition and soulbonds were always accepted.  
Even if the Jedi Order was a very slow institution to move, the disasters born from their previous rule of non-attachment, way before the Ruusan Reformation, were enough to teach them tolerance, and that love was not an instant doorway to Darkness.  
Nowadays, most Jedi with soulmates were in the friends or partnership category, but those with lovers were neither uncommon nor ostracized.  
  


* * *

  
The Droid Wars had begun. They were named so by Master Yoda, now General Yoda as the Jedi took their rightful place at the head of the GAR, and the name rang true. The Separatist alliance had thousands, millions of the damn things.  
They probably could have been named the Clone Wars. The clones were, after all, the element of surprise there, the decisive factor during the very first battle but...  
But the name was given by a superior officer, yes, but by an ally as well. A Jedi who knew that the men fighting for them, with them, were human beings. Unique sentients, with a soulmate for each and every single one of them.  
  
Some of them would die before they met each other. Some of them would die and be ripped from the other's life, the other's arms, the other's heart.  
They did not deserve to bear the name of the conflict that would cause such pain.  
  


* * *

  
Commander Skywalker was the poster child for the acceptance of romantic soulmates within the Jedi Order.  
As he claimed Rex's legion as his own, the clone captain ended up knowing more and more about the hot-headed Padawan.  
  
He had met his miit'jorir when he was nine, on his homeworld of Tatooine. Their words were circling around their left biceps.  
He thought that she was an angel, she marveled at how kind he was despite his life.  
  
(Later, when the 501st and the 212th would meet up, Rex would tease Waxer and Boil with a smirk. THIS was a very romantic Ashnar Urnir, with very symbolic words on display on their arms. His vode were lucky their sentences were written underneath their feet, because 'did you sit on a stick, you're walking funny' and 'how the kriff did you look under my foot ?' were far less classy.)  
(Not that they cared.)  
  
Commander Skywalker was one of the Jedi that thrived on attachment, on affection, on love. He was very close with his Master, was friend with half of the Order, spent hours in the creche playing with younglings, grew attached to every single one of the troops that were assigned to him and General Jinn in mere days.  
Where the ancient rules of the Jedi of Old would have repressed and strangled him, the new ones were very freeing for the former slave and allowed him to shine through the Light.  
It was not very surprising that he had a strong soulbond.  
  
« I stayed in contact with Padmé even after we came back from Naboo. My Master was still recovering from what happened, and I was stuck in the Temple and bored senseless. » explained Skywalker, while tweaking his new prothesis. « I sent her countless letters via the 'net, even a memorable old-fashioned one, on flimsi and all. She kept it, it's a masterpiece of whining and awful writing. »  
  
The Jedi shook his head, smiling at the memory.  
  


« We missed each other, of course, but I was a Padawan, and she was a Queen, then. And we were very young. We agreed to stay in contact but to wait until we were older, and freer, before we tried to see what kind of soulbond we could have. »  
  
The soppy grin he had made it clear that, somewhere along the way, they went with a romantic one.  
  
« It's recent. » added Skywalker with a small grin. « You're projecting loudly. Anyway, Padmé and I are in love, and it's the most wonderful thing in the world. Did you meet your soulmate already, Rex ? »  
« Not yet, sir. »  
  
Rex dragged his fingers without thought on his chest plate, above the blurred words.  
  
« We call them miit'jorir. I will, one day. » he said, with more certitude than hope.  
« Good. » nodded his Commander.  
  
He closed a small panel on the artificial hand he was making and stood up. But, before he left, he paused and Rex cringed slightly when he saw his Commander's smile.  
That was never good.  
  
« To be honest, Padmé and I are going to make the whole thing official. Next time we're on leave, I'm going to marry her. » He did not leave enough time for congratulations. « Padmé's family is pretty large. I only have my mom and my Master. Friends are welcome too, of course. »  
Anakin grinned and added, like it was perfectly obvious :   
« I cannot go with the whole 501st, that would be difficult. Would you like to come for all of them ? »  
  
Rex was so gobsmacked that he never said yes, even if it was clear that his Commander took his presence for granted.  
Damn Jedi.  
  


* * *

  
The wedding took place on Naboo, as per Padmé's request. 

Amidst the idyllic landscape, full of lakes and more greenery than Rex had ever seen, the clone felt a bit out of place.  
It was clear that his Commander was not at ease either.  
  
He greeted his Master with an embrace and his mother with a bear-hug, smiling softly as he was teasing them. Rex was surprised to see that General Jinn's soulmate was Anakin's mother.  
That explained a lot of things, especially concerning the two Jedi's interactions.  
A few of General Skywalker's friends were here as well, offering congratulations and teasing in turn, but the Jedi's circle of relatives was completely dwarfed by his future wife's.  
  
Rex and Anakin ended up leaning on a beautiful marble rail, with a breathtaking view, fleeing the endless socializing.  
  
« I asked her to marry me here, when I was healing after Geonosis. » Rex's Commander admitted. « I forgot every single line I was planning to tell her, went back to the awkward, awful teenager I had been, and ended up comparing her to sand. It was a disaster. »  
  
Anakin quoted a few chosen sentences from that terrible proposing and Rex couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.  
He felt fair to share a few embarrassing stories about him and his brothers as well and they both ended up relaxing.  
  
When Grand Master Yoda arrived, surprising his great-grand Padawan by announcing that he would be the one officiating the wedding, the last remains of stress were lifted from the Jedi's shoulders.  
_  
_ Rex stood witness to a wedding filled with love and tenderness, willed by fate. It was a beautiful ceremony he made sure to remember and tell in detail once he was back with his brothers, for they had all been there in spirit. _  
  
_ With a single act of kindness, born from General Skywalker's loving nature and tendency to grab and hold on to every lifeform that he considered his, the Jedi won himself Rex's loyalty and, through him, the loyalty of the whole 501st.  
  


* * *

  
Of course, not everything could stay smooth and soft, to quote a certain Jedi Commander, and the other shoe had to drop.  
First, Rex's dreams took a turn for the worse.  
  
He had dreamt of killing before, but never his brothers. Loyalty to each other was something they were born with, bred with. He would never turn his blaster on one of them.  
And yet, he was doing it, again and again in his dreams, cutting a swath through a whole platoon, taking lives by the dozen.  
  
Then, as if his dreams were not bad enough, he ended up covered in blood in real life as well.  
  
Jaguada was a desert-like planet, the dust-like sand sticking to their armor. The battle was more a skirmish than a real engagement, with quick bursts of intense fighting followed by waves of calm. The droids were sent out in very small contingents, following a strange, unidentified strategy they would later realize was stalling.  
  
Rex never saw the bolt coming.  
One moment, he was running towards a droideka, turning his head for a fraction of second... the next, he was down, choking on blood, pain flaring in his chest and unable to breathe as his too fragile armor had caved in under the shot.  
With shaking hands, he managed to push on the release latches, throwing the chest piece away, his charred bodysuit being ripped apart in the process.  
  
Good thing : it allowed him to breathe, chasing away the black spots dancing in the edges of his vision.  
Bad thing : it removed the pressure the armor was putting on his wound, allowing the blood to flow freely.  
  
The black spots quickly returned, blood was flowing between his fingers, and the only thing Rex could think about was that they really needed upgraded gear. Those first-gen armor were utter crap.  
  
Something walked near him and stopped. Rex's vision was tunneling so bad he could not see what it was, or who. A brother, a Jedi, a droid, it could be a kriffing bantha, he would not know.  
Whatever it was, it left without giving him assistance, but without finishing him off either.  
He blacked out for a few moments and woke up to the scowling face identical to his.  
He was making a bad habit of it, it seemed.  
  
« If you die, I'll kill you, » hissed Cody as he was pressing bloody hands on Rex's chest, putting far more pressure than Rex had managed on his own. « Then I'll bring you back to life to kill you AGAIN. »  
  
Rex looked down. He was in pain, but felt very detached. The pain was not bothering him. Rex had been made to endure, to survive, and he was used to far worse. He had known pain for years, now, the fact that it was mostly in dreams not relevant. He knew what fatal wounds looked like and that his, while severe, would not kill him. He was mostly bothered by the fact that he was useless for the fight right now.  
And that he had been taken down that easily.  
  
« I cannot die, vod, » he answered Cody, finding what he was looking for.  
  
Amidst the blood, between two of Cody's fingers, one blurry word stood out., ink black smeared with red.  
  
« I have not met them yet, » he reminded his brother.  
  
Clones did not have many beliefs. Most of them were from the old Mando'ade culture, taught to them by Jango Fett, but some were created by them, for them.  
Most surrounded the Ashnar Urnir.  
  
You would not die before you found your miit'jorir.  
Sometimes, meeting them was as good as a death sentence, but worth it.  
  
« That is a kriffing stupid reason to walk into the path of a blaster bolt, » growled Cody. « Especially since we still not have the new armors. »  
« Well, now, I'm first in line to receive one, aren't I ? »  
  
Cody probably knew that he would live, by then, since he struck him, hard, on the shoulder.  
Or he was really, really pissed off.  
  
Or both.  
  


* * *

  
Once released from Kix's tender care, Rex finally learned about what went on while he was down.  
The Seps had a new weapon.  
  
A new type of droid, human-shaped but quicker, stronger, deadlier than any human had any right to be. It had cut down fifteen squads on its own -the casualty list for the 501st and 212th was the worst one since the beginning of the war- and disappeared before General Jinn or Commander Skywalker could even approach it.  
  
(General, his Commander was now a damn Jedi Knight, a General, whose stupid idea was THAT, that was, like, the worst permission to do even more crazy shit that Rex had ever heard of.)  
  
« It went near you, actually. » said Jesse, his feet kicking in the air, his left boot missing.  
Again.  
« Must have thought I was already dead. Or dying, » shrugged Rex. « There was a lot of blood. »  
Jesse nodded.  
« You should go to bed. You look like crap. »  
« What are you, my medic ? » groaned Rex, but he was already walking towards the dorm.  
« Nope, that's my boyfriend, but it makes me scary by association. »  
  


* * *

  
The war went on.  
  
The Separatist movement gained momentum and, as more and more systems were leaving the Republic, there weren't any sign that the conflict would ever end.  
It was not slowing down, it was even getting worse. The droid that decimated their troops was an ace Dooku was sending to every critical location.  
It was still unclear what kind of souped up droid the Seps used to make it, but since there was only the one, it was probably an experiment, or too expensive.  
Or an expensive experiment.  
  
But what an ace it was.  
Clad all in black, to give the illusion of life, it was masked and wore a thick gorget made with a strange metal. There seemed to be carvings on it, but the waving pattern on the metal blurred them, making them unreadable.  
Besides, if you wandered close enough to see them, you would not live to tell what you saw. The droid was a killing machine, cutting down brothers and Jedi alike.

Lightsabers were ineffective against it. The metal around its neck was something General Jinn called 'cortosis', and it shut down their weapons as soon as they touched it.  
Some Jedi learned that at the price of their life.  
Even if they learned not to swing at the droid's neck, it had two vambraces made of the stuff, used to parry (and, of course, it was also resistant to blaster bolts, and was not even scratched by blades). The damn clanker was never touched, while it was killing hundreds.

Since all major things went by two, were they good or bad, Rex's dreams worsened as well.  
Every night, he would lose his mind, and turn against his brothers. He would kill his General, kill General Jinn, kill Cody, Waxer, Boil, Jesse, Fives, Echo, Tup, all of them, one after the other, while their blaster bolts and their strikes would not even slow him.  
  
The morbid parallel was not lost on him and when the deadly droid was given a name, Rex felt something in his gut twist.  
The Assassin.  
  
The clones were calling it Davaab, Execution, when they talked about it but, in low voices and behind closed doors, the words Jate'kara Shukur were whispered like a curse, like a bad omen.  
Breaker of Destiny.  
Some brothers had died before meeting their miit'jorire and, to a clone, that felt like the worst of taboos, the most horrible of crimes.  
  
Rex dragged his thumb on the scar in the middle of his words. He would not die before meeting them. He would not let his fate be changed.  
The scarring was not a mark of bad luck, it was a protective charm. He had survived, and he would keep on doing so.  
  
But not dying was not enough. He could not go on like he was, jaded and tired, with dreams filled with blood and gore and death, and not break.  
Rex sighed and finally managed to knock on the door he had been standing in front of for the last ten minutes.  
  
« Cody. I need help. »  
  


* * *

  
Cody was startled to see a ragged-looking vod on his doorstep. He had known that Rex was not doing well, not since Jaguada, but seeing him like that, without the upper part on his armor, and with very worrying circles under his eyes...

He had not thought it was that bad.  
  
He stepped aside, letting Rex in.  


* * *

  
For the very first time, almost two years after the beginning of the war, Rex told someone about his dreams.  
  
« My sleep is not restful, not for my mind. My body is relaxed, but the rest... I'm dreaming of blood, Cody. Of endless fighting fields. I'm... I am not in control, I'm a prisoner of my own body, and I kill. »  
  
Cody looked at him like he had a sour lemon in his mouth. But there wasn't a single shred of judgement in his brother's eyes. Only understanding, and companionship.  
  
« Who ? Who do you kill, vod ? »  
  
Rex sighed. Who did he not ?  
  
« Everyone, Cody. Everyone. General Skywalker. Your General. I kill... »  
  
Cody placed his hand on Rex's forearm and shook his head, not letting him finish.  
Rex realized there was not only compassion in the other's eyes. That was understanding.  
That was knowledge.  
  
« I know. You're... not alone, Rex. Not the only one. I think... for whatever reason, I think we all dream about that. It's like, as soon as we're asleep, our brains play our worst fears for us. They're not true, Rex. They're not to be. »  
  
Rex exhaled. He was not the only one.  
He felt keenly for every brother that had to endure similar dreams, but the knowledge that he was not the only one...  
  
« How can you know ? » he asked, in a very rare moment of doubt. « How can you know that we'll never break, that this war will not drag out the worst of us ? »  
  
Cody gave him a very small smile, but it was an assured one.  
  
« Because of my mark. Because of what my miit'jorir will one day say to me. »  
  
Rex frowned. Cody's mark was visible for all to see, a jagged pattern that looked like a scar from afar, beginning under the left eye and curling around it, on the temple, and then above the eyebrow, reaching his hairline.  
The words were in Basic and said ''Thank you, Commander Cody, you may rest now.''  
That could be said at any moment, especially while they were at war, and many brothers were speculating that Cody would end up with a Jedi, for those words could easily be said by a superior officer.  
  
However, that was not a clear indication that things would get better and Cody was not known for his optimism. He would not read things where they weren't.  
  
« I don't understand, » Rex finally admitted.  
« They don't end here, » answered Cody.  
« What ? »  
« My words. They don't end here. There's a second part. »  
  
Cody made a come-hither sign with his finger, still smiling (smirking. The bastard was smirking), inviting Rex into his personal space, where any other clone would get punched, until he almost had his nose on his brother's hair.  
There were words under the hair. The sentence continued above Cody's brow and, when Rex parted the strands hiding it, his breath rushed out of him.  
  
« You absolute, kriffing, lucky bastard, » whispered Rex.  
  
''Thank you, Commander Cody,'' the words said, ''you can rest now, the war is over.''  
  


* * *

  
After that, Rex's dreams began to change. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the horrors they were speaking of were not to come, but he was not seeing as many bloodbaths as he used to.  
Instead, he was dreaming of strange things, that did not really make sense. A droid factory, an unknown planet, a richly decorated palace with a lot of hiding places, a group of smugglers dying before they even knew he was there, a man never seeing the blade that pierced his heart...  
Places, faces, murders, but nothing that made sense.  
  
The only constant was the never-ending pain.  


* * *

  
When they learned that the Assassin was not a droid, Rex was flying a too-kriffing-slow ship towards the planet where his stupid General was stranded with half a droid army, half a lightsaber and would soon be half a Jedi if Rex did not reach him in time.  


* * *

  
Anakin faced the deadly droid and, even with the sparkling remains of his only weapon at his feet, could not keep himself from making taunts.  
The Assassin had never talked, probably did not even have vocal protocols, but Anakin could not help himself. The whole 'Dark' look was just asking for jibes and innuendo about Dooku's kinks.  
  
It attacked during one of those, and Anakin snickered.  
  
« Did I hit a fuse ? » he asked, vaulting above the droid's head.  
  
He did not expect the droid to jump and grab his leg, violently throwing him against the ground. Breath knocked out of him, Anakin dodged the blade that would have gutted him only thanks to the Force, and kicked the Assassin by pure reflex.  
The damn thing dodged, of course, but it left Anakin enough time to get up and attack.  
  
He was not the best at hand to hand, but the Assassin had been kind enough to leave its blade buried in the ground and the wicked thing was only a bit shorter than a lightsaber shoto.  
The droid parried with its cortosis vambraces or with a matching blade to the previous one, and the two opponents exchanged a furry of blows for almost a whole minute.  
Anakin had rarely felt so glad for his artificial muscles, for a real arm would have been in serious pain with that much quick and short movements.  
  
Now, Anakin was what some people would call a tank, hitting hard and heavily, not really bothering with tactics, but he had been taught by Qui-Gon Jinn, who was the only being in two hundred years who could claim the honor of winning against Master Yoda at a dejarik game.  
Not using much strategy did not mean that he didn't know some, and, really, his tactics were only that much more efficient when nobody was expecting them.

He left a small opening on his guard and the droid, following its stupid programmed protocol, took it and jabbed its blade through Anakin's bionic hand.  
In return, Anakin pierced its arm from side to side, the tip going out just were a human armpit would be and were a lot of droids' servos were.  
  
The Jedi was expecting a lot of things. A complete shutdown, an explosion, at least a useless arm and so, an advantage.  
He was not, however, expecting blood.  
Bright, deep, red blood, dripping and running along the blade's edge.  
Human blood.  
  
There was silence for five whole seconds, total stillness, and then, Anakin was submitted to the worse beating of his life.  
He could not get a single strike through, could not parry a single hit, as fists as hard as steel hit him without mercy, as sharp blades pierced his skin, as a solid boot broke two ribs in one blow.  
The Force was screaming at him but he did not have the time to follow its warnings. The Assassin was just too quick, infuriated and deadlier than ever.  
  
Anakin really believed that he was going to die and, when he saw a bloody dark glove approaching his throat, he lashed out by reflex. Every lesson, every tactic had flown out of his mind long ago. The only thing remaining was the Force and it was the Force he used, making a fist with his hand in a desperate attempt to crush his enemy, to stall him and escape him.  
  
It turned out that cortosis was not Force-resistant. The collar around the Assassin's throat constricted and he faltered, his hand leaving Anakin's view to clutch at it.  
He retreated. He fled, leaving Anakin gasping and coughing blood.  
  
The droids would have taken care of him, finishing the Assassin's work, if Rex had not arrived, raining fire on the stupid clankers.  
  
« Impeccable timing... » coughed the Jedi, before fainting.  
  
No one ever heard his best lines.  
  


* * *

  
Something strange happened. 

During one of the new, strange variations of his dreams, Rex walked through one of the Seps' biggest droid plant. A vast part of their army was made there, it was a very important and strategic place.  
And the system just next to the one where it was situated had just negotiated its return to the Republic.  
He knew the GAR would come soon to try and take it.  
He was counting on it.  
  
Rex woke up, puzzled. It was the first time he had names, specific places, concrete things.  
It would not have been that strange on his own, but, two days later, General Skywalker made an announcement that startled him.  
  
« After months of behind the scenes negotiations, the Gerzob system is going to rejoin the Republic. As the ones familiar with the Hunnovers sector will know, the Gerzob system is very close to the Siskeen one. »  
  
Murmurs spread among his brothers, but Rex was too shocked to listen.  
  
« Precisely. It's our door to Olanet. We're being sent on a secret op there, so we can act before the announcement about the Gerzob system is made. The Seps will not see us coming, and they will not be able to act in time. Taking and blowing up that factory could very well win us the war ! »  
  
The cheer that came up barely managed to throw Rex out of his stupor.  
  
What did that mean ?  
  


* * *

  
His unease never left him. He was not reassured when they joined up with six other battalions, including the 212th, bringing their numbers close to one million, almost a third of their numbers..  
The Senate was not taking risks with that op, it seemed, but the overpowered strike did not sit well with Rex.  
Something was definitely amiss.  
  
When Rex saw the planet, he knew it was the one he had seen on his dreams. It did not make sense, but it was.  
  
Rex clutched his blaster and scowled. He would find out the meaning of this, but first, they had a plant to destroy.  
  


* * *

  
The 501st, with General Skywalker at the helm, was the legion sent on recon inside the plant. A whole legion as recon, that was a good way to measure both the size of the factory and the magnitude of the op.  
Hundreds of ships in atmosphere, running interference with the communication network, preventing all Separatist actions, as the elected Senators of the Gerzod system were making a vibrant speech at the same time.  
Hundreds of thousands of clones, ready to invade and destroy a factory the size of a small country, as soon as Rex relayed the order his General would give.  
  
No pressure.  
He would feel way more ready if he had slept at all the past five nights.  
  
« Let's go, » ordered his General, and they went inside.  
  


* * *

  
No recon had ever been this messy, and this violent. Gone was the stealth approach : the sheer size of the plant prevented it. They just had to fight their way in, check that there was nothing of interest to bring out of the factory, and send the signal for all of their brothers to go in and destroy everything.  
  
Rex was next to his General when they reached the same conclusion : there was nothing here but droids and machines.  
  
« Rex, give the signal. Send them in, let's blow this up, » smiled his General with a smug grin.  
  
Rex nodded and raised his hand, pressed his com-switch, connecting him to all of his vode, a third of the GAR.  
His eyes landed on a viewing room farther away, and he froze.  
He knew that room.  
The whole plant was vaguely familiar, a sensation of deja-vu that he managed to put aside, but that was not a mere sensation. He knew that room like he knew himself.  
  
« Fall back, » he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, he repeated, « Fall back ! All units, fall back, get as far from the plant as you can ! »  
  
Trusting his brothers to do what they were told, Rex turned to his General that was staring at him.  
  
« What are you playing at ?? » yelled his Jedi. « We have to- »  
« Please. Please trust me, » he said, and his voice was so full of desperation that General Skywalker could not do anything else than nod.  
  
They ran out of the building. Outside, the army had obeyed, some were already in the air, leaving the planet. the rest were almost far enough for Rex to feel at ease.  
The 501st was the nearest, and he knew what was going to happen.  
  
When the factory blew up, with enough force to be compared to a sunflare, he threw himself against his General's back.  
He was wearing full Phase 2 armor, complete with helmet, something his Jedi was not. Maybe, maybe it would be enough to save his General's life.  
They felt the airblast first, the air pressure sending them flying dozen of meters, before the heat reached them.  
Despite the temperature-regulating specs of both his armor and his bodysuit, Rex could feel his skin heating up, way past the point of discomfort.  
  
He hoped he was a good enough shield for his Jedi, and passed out.  
  


* * *

  
His Master is furious. That is far worse than any ire he had ever felt from him, and the punishment that follows was pure agony.  
But, for the first time, in the middle of the excruciating pain, there is a new feeling.  
  
Triumph.  
And hope. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas ! I'm following the popular tradition of posting something to celebrate the holiday.   
> Instead of the usual 7k-ish chapter, have double that as my Christmas gift ! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I loved reading your positive reactions. You all rock !
> 
> We have now hit the wordcount I thought would be the length of the whole story.  
> Yeah, right. I have almost 70k written and I'm not done.  
> This story is growing on its OWN.
> 
> As always, thanks to the wonderful [ Norcumi ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi) for her amazing betaing job ! Without her, this would still be an WIP in a folder, probably never to see the light of day.

* * *

Rex opened his eyes.  
That... was good. Unexpected, but good.  
Also, harder than everything he had ever done. His lids felt like they were glued shut, and that he would never have enough strength to pull them open.  
  
Of course, the first (blurred) thing he saw was a clone's face.  
He was pretty sure it was Kix's, but his vod was supposed to scream at him, lecture him for another wound and medbay stay, not look at him like... like that, like he was carving Rex's face into his memory to remember it.  
  
« M'ntded. »  
  
Kix sighed, and the sound was almost a sob.  
  
« I have no idea what you just tried to say, but if you open your mouth one more time, I'm putting you under, Rex. You're not in the clear yet. We're sending you to Coruscant, along with General Skywalker. »  
  
Rex did not even try to wonder why Coruscant and not Kamino. He barely could understand what Kix was saying, it was not the time to ask himself hard questions.  
Only one answer mattered.  
  
« Gnral ? »  
  
Kix pinched his nose.  
  
« Save me from stubborn captains... Alive, Rex. Thanks to you. And now, you were warned. » he answered, prepping a hypodermic.  
  
Rex fainted way before Kix could sedate him.  


* * *

 

  
Usually, when Anakin went on leave, there were a few rituals :

First, he would comm Padmé ahead of time to warn her that he was coming back. Immediately after, he would do the same for his mom.  
Then, he would comm his Master, to see if they could sync their leaves. They did not see each other much since he was Knighted, except on the battlefield, but they tried, especially since a leave with both his wife, his mother, and his Master was the closest thing he had to a family reunion.  
Finally, he would go to Rex and ask for the names of the more jaded of his men, the ones in dire need of a break from the war, and would take as much as he could with him.  
  
Sometimes, some of those brothers were... lost during the return trip, and quietly added to the casualty list of the next battle, to prevent questions.  
Despite what the Senate as a majority was thinking, the clones were NOT slaves, or meaty versions of droids.  
They were free beings, they had soulmarks to prove it, and they had the right to choose.  
  
That was the usual process.  
But, usually, he was not sporting dangerous second and third-degrees burns, did not have a burst eardrum, and was not floating in bacta for life-saving reasons instead of 'just' injuries.  
Also, his Captain was floating in the tank next to his, in a far worse shape. He didn't have Force-healing abilities to help the process along, and had taken the brunt of the heatwave in an attempt to shield Anakin.  
  
Maybe a few pieces of body armor would not be THAT bad. Not if it could prevent one of his precious people to be hurt in his stead again.  
  
Rex had to survive. He saved almost one million lives and foiled the Separatists' trap.  
Anakin did not know HOW his Captain had known about the explosives. He still didn't know where the damn thing had been planted, and it had to be massive, to blow up hundreds of square meters. It was incomprehensible that Rex had been the only one to notice it.  
Even the Force had not made a single wave.  
Anakin was just glad that the casualty list was so low when it could have destroyed the GAR and lost the Republic the war, but he knew the higher-ups would want answers.  
  
The Jedi closed his eyes. He would not let politicians hound his Captain before he was completely recovered.  


* * *

  
Padmé was sorely tempted to punch the next being that would tell her, all mighty and condescending, that the war was taking place far from Coruscant and that she should concentrate on more pressing matters, like their department's next budget raise.  
They were fighting that damn war every day at the Senate.  
  
Supply runs. Refugees relocations. Peace negotiations. Hundreds and hundreds of planets sending messages, motions, complaints, protests, demands of help.  
And that was just the tip of the iceberg.  
  
All of that was filling her schedule almost to the brim, and it wasn't even her main preoccupation.  
For months now, Padmé had been the main voice for the senators vying for full citizenship -and the basic human rights that went with it- for all the clones in the GAR.  
It was NOT an easy fight. The galaxy was quite happy to close its eyes on the slavery they were allowing in the name of peace and protection.  
They did not want to deal with the guilt of knowing that human beings were dying by the thousands to protect them.  
They did not want to acknowledge that they could sit on their asses on comfortable cushions only because sentients who weren't given any choice were fighting on countless unhospitable worlds.  
The worst among them simply weren't willing to spend credits on more than three millions salaries instead of none.  
  
But Padmé and her supporters had an irrefutable argument : clones had soulmarks.  
And, contrary to what an opponent had pretended, it was not millions of carbon copies of the original template's mark.  
Sure, Jango Fett wore his on his knuckles and one of the clones, though it was the only one unmodified, the now thirteen year old boy named Boba, had the matching one, for one of the most beautiful parenting soulbonds Padmé had ever seen. Yet all of Boba's brothers wore different marks, different words, on different places.  
  
It was infuriating that it had taken weeks for her to prove that simple fact.  
On the plus side, though, she had had a wonderful stroke of luck : there were clones standing with her to prove her point, volunteers sent to her by Jesse who asked his squadmates among the 501st. And one of them had found his soulmate right in front of the Senate.  
  
In the person of the opposition's leader.  
  
Padmé had really thought for a moment, that they were about to see a Discord. Two antagonistic soulmates, rare but not unknown, that could hate each other with as much passion as the most loving soulbonded.  
But then, Padmé's rival, Okeeer Ri Si-Lae, touched with reverence the music notes on Tup's cheek that matched his last phrase, for its race was only capable of speech by wordless musical notes, and bowed to Padmé.  
  
« I withdraw my accusation. » it sang, the device on its neck translating for all the Senate to hear. « And I will join my voice to yours. »  
  
Having to explain to a being who could kill you with a high pitched sound that it had to let its newfound soulmate go back to a war front that could kill him at anytime was not a fun moment, but it sure did help their cause.  
  
Seven months later, Padmé had quintupled the number of her allies, had won several battles, like leaves for the mated clones -she would get leaves for ALL OF THEM, but that was a start-, and her goals were within reach.  
When the war would end, she would have made a place for the soldiers that had won it.  


* * *

  
Rex smiled softly at the scowling face he could see on the other side of the green-tinted glass. His Commander was NOT happy and, even if the bacta tank muffled most sound, he could read on her lips well enough.

« ...not allowed to blow yourself up without me there to save yours and Sky-Guy's ass, you hear me ? I'm so pissed off right now, I swear, I'm going to climb into that aquarium and hit you in the face with my foot until it's imprinted on your stupid head, you... »  
  
She had been ranting for eight minutes, now, and was not looking ready to stop anytime soon.  
Rex was really glad that Ahsoka had been injured on another run and had been at the Temple when the Olanet's factory disaster happened.  
He barely managed to save one Jedi, he would probably have lost one of them if they had both been here.  
  
With a lot of efforts, even after a week in bacta, he raised his hand, placing it against the glass.  
He was waiting for her to mimic him, or maybe a fist-bump in return, but Ahsoka stopped her rant to press her forehead where his hand was.  
  
« You're an idiot. » she whispered. « You're not allowed to die before Sky-Guy Knights me. »  
  
She raised her hand, pointing an accusing finger at him, head still against the tank.  
  
« You're not allowed to die after that either, in case you were having any stupid ideas. Stupider. »  
  
Rex's smile morphed into a grin, and he slid his hand like he could stroke her cheek.  
He was not dying anytime soon.  


* * *

  
Anakin sighed blissfully as Padmé's fingers lightly scraped his skull. He was sprawled on his back, his head in her lap as she was reading reports full of words and numbers and boring stuff, and would not move unless a Sith jumped inside the room.  
Even then, the Sith would have to wield an ignited lightsaber. Otherwise, Anakin was not getting up.  
  
Rex had done too well. After almost three weeks, Anakin was pretty much healed. Burns, even on the magnitude his had been, were one of the wounds most efficiently treated by bacta. The side of his face was still a bit pink and tender, would probably leave a scar on his jaw, and he had the worst lopsided haircut ever, but he would soon be able to return to the front.  
His Captain, however, had just left the bacta tank for the first time, and would need more time still. Nerve endings on his right thigh had been burned so badly he almost lost the leg. He would need physical therapy and that meant that he would be at the mercy of politicians, without Anakin there to run interference.  
  
It was no wonder Kix insisted that Rex was sent to the Temple with him and not on Kamino. Anakin had the sinking feeling the cloners would not have bothered with a clone that needed more than three months of recovery time.  
  
« I did all that I could. You'll take care of him when I leave, right ? » he said, eyes opening to look at Padmé. « You're the only politician I trust. »  
« There is Bail Organa, » she reminded him, smiling softly. « He fights almost as much as I for clones' rights. »  
  
Anakin shrugged.  
  
« Almost, » he repeated. « And I have not seen Bail Organa drink my men under the table. You know them, Padmé, you know Rex, and Cody, and Kix and you have that... weird pen-paly thing with Jesse where you send each other blasters. »  
« And clones, » smiled his wife, still amused by the fact that Jesse had... forgotten to ask Anakin's permission before sending Tup and a few others to the Senate for the hearing months ago.  
« And clones, but I'm more worried about the blasters. Stop changing the subject. »  
  
Padmé shook her head, tugging on a strand of hair.  
  
« Do you really have to ask ? Of course I'll keep an eye on him. But you're worried about nothing. The Senate does not care about the hows, all they see is that the battle was won. The last time I brought a clone with me, I changed my opponent's mind after months of fruitless talks. They won't give me the opportunity to praise him for preventing us from losing a third of the military. They'll award him a meaningless medal in absentia and that'll be all. Nobody's going to ask questions. »  
  
Anakin nodded.  
He had asked Rex what happened inside the plant as soon as the Healers said he could talk for several minutes without hurting his vocal cords, and the clone had only been able to tell him that he had just known the viewing room above them was filled with explosives.  
  
That would never have passed in front of the Senate, nor the Jedi Council.  
Luckily, he was trusting Padmé concerning the politician's reactions, and had already taken steps concerning the Jedi-side of things.  
  
« Good, then. »  
« You took care of the Council ? » checked Padmé, well aware of his plans.  
  
Subtle, he was not, especially to her eyes.  


« Yes. I said that I clearly saw the explosives as well as Rex. Most of the clones that were with us that far in are dead, but the ones that made it out will back me up without blinking if they're asked about it. I'm not really worried about that, now, thanks to you. »  
  
A week ago, he was panicking, certain that Rex would be dragged to a Senate hearing. Luckily, he was married to a level-headed woman.  
  
« I'm just... »  
« A motherhen. » smiled Padmé.  
« Worried about his recovery. » grumbled Anakin.  
« Of course, love. Of course. »  


* * *

  
The Halls of Healing were a very quiet place and, after almost three years of fighting, Rex was both enjoying the peace and a bit uneasy.  
Especially since there were a lot of ut'reeyah kar'te there.  
  
When someone died, the mark upon their miit'jorir's skin was affected. It disappeared, but left an outline behind. An empty mark, for an empty heart. Ut'reeyah Kar'ta.  
  
Rex could not help it, his fingers traced his own mark above his heart by reflex, a habit by now. He was still alive, he was still there, he would not die.  
As long as his words stayed that way, blurred black ink, he would not give up.  
  
His leg aching, the clone went outside, and sat under a tree. Leaning against a trunk, he shut his eyes and pressed his hand against his soulmark.  
  
« Stop taking your time. » he whispered. « I need you. »  
  
He fell asleep in an instant.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan was completely still as he waited, staring at his hand resting on the edge of the table.  
When the very last trace of the Force-suppressant running through his veins disappeared, he stabbed a vibroblade through it without blinking.  
  
The pain flared and, when he pulled out the blade, the blood began to flow. Flecks of it went flying, following the blade's movement and landing on the side of his face.  
He was staring into the mirror, and the Assassin was looking back at him.  
  
He pressed his bloody hand to his chest, where there was the only thing that had kept him (mostly) sane all this time : his soulmark.  
The skin there was terribly scarred, pluckered and silk-smooth as all lightsabers wound were, but every time he had been wounded here, the mark marred or ripped from him, the words had inscribed themselves anew above the new scars, as sharp as ever.  
The gorget ensnaring his throat and upper chest blocked most of it from view, and the skin around it was red, chafed by continuous friction between the cortosis and the raised skin.  
A deliberate torture by Dooku, he knew, in a vain attempt to make him hate more. Hate his soulmark, hate his soulmate.  
It only made him hate Dooku and his twisted games even more than he thought possible.  
  
His eyes flashed amber for the briefest of moments and he knew that, between the pain and the emotional wreck he was, it should be enough to leave a lasting memory, one his soulmate would hopefully see.  
  
« I am deeply sorry for what I am doing, » he began, and his voice was a raw whisper, unused to speech for so long.  
  
He willed his temper under check, and his eyes turned blue again. He was almost never blinking, staring at his own reflection, looking at himself straight on, knowing that his soulmate would soon watch this through his eyes.  
  
« I would not have done it if I had any other choice. Doing to you what has been done to me is ripping me apart, but things are coming to a head, and I will not let you... »  
  
And the galaxy. Talk about the galaxy, even if sometimes, you could not care less. The galaxy has your soulmate living in it, so it's worth saving.  
  
« ...nor the galaxy fall under the Darkness' rule. Believe me. Trust me, if you can. I'll get you out as soon as I can, but you'll have to endure and be strong in the meantime. Hell, hate me if everything else fails. Everything you deem necessary to survive, and then I'll be here, and I'll explain everything. I promise. »  
  
Obi-Wan placed his bloody hand on the mirror, leaving a red imprint both on his chest and on the glass, wishing that he could see his soulmate's presence behind his own gaze.  
  
« We're linked. It's my fault, and I'll atone for that as well in time, but it could very well save all of us. Be strong. I'm coming. I'm so, so sorry. »  
  
He hoped that it'd do, that the Force-impression lasted long enough, that his soulmate would understand. He had no time and he still had one more thing to do.  
He wiped the blood as much as he could, wrapped his hand, and went to kneel on the carpet in the middle of his rooms, beginning the long litany of words that would free him for a time, and cage the most precious being in the galaxy.  


* * *

  
When he opened his eyes again, he was leaning against a tree in the Jedi Temple's gardens.  
In an instant, he was deeply aware of every single thing. The sun on his bare face, the quiet chirping of birds, the faint pain in his right leg and how his body was both taller and bulkier that it was supposed to be.  
Most of all, he noticed the hundreds, thousands of bright lives basking in the Light.  
His own Darkness shriveled against the assault and retreated, locking itself in the depths of his heart, waiting for a more opportune moment to be used.  
  
For the first time in a decade, Obi-Wan breathed free.  
  
He had a thousand things to do, and to do quickly, but he had to take a moment to balance himself anew, and to get used to the Force. His soulmate was Force-sensitive enough that Obi-Wan could access it.  
For as long as he had wore that Sith-damned collar, reaching for the Force had been almost impossible, drugs running in his veins limiting or completely preventing him from using it. Even when he discovered how to purge those quicker, to wrangle a few minutes of freedom, the sensation had never been the same, tainted and painful.  
  
Accessing it from his soulmates' body, even untrained, was a balm on his weary soul. He breathed deeply, exhaled, and got up.  
He had work to do.  


* * *

  
« What do you mean, Rex is missing ? » said Anakin, gripping his comlink. « How can he be missing ? He was in the Temple, surrounded by Jedi ! »  
« I know, Anakin, » answered Qui-Gon. « Cody and I are already planet-side, and looking into it, looking for him. It's pure chance we were so close to Coruscant when Mace's message reached us. It seems that Rex was in the Halls' gardens, last time he was seen. I will begin my search here. »  
  
Anakin sighed, forcing his temper under check. He was at the other side of the galaxy, he could not do a single thing. He had to trust his former Master.  
And comm Padmé.  
  
« Keep me updated, » he finally asked. « And give my love to mom. »  
« Will do. »  
« And don't stand closer to her than fifteen paces. »  
« Will not do, » laughed Qui-Gon before the line went dead.  
  
Their usual banter made Anakin smile, despite his worry. They had closed more conversations than he could count with the same words, a playful reminder to a time where a young Padawan had been extremely possessive of his mother, soulmate or no soulmate.  
  
He knew his mother's words as well as his own. 'Lady Skywalker, thank you for your hospitality' curled around her wrist like a wonderful bracelet. Anakin had always thought it was the proof that they would one day be free, since slaves weren't called 'Lady' by anyone. He had spent hours at night, curled against his mom's side, stroking the letters.

When he brought Padmé, Jar-Jar and Master Jinn with him so he could introduce his soulmate to his mom, he had been shocked to hear the words coming from the Jedi's mouth.  
Perhaps not as shocked as Qui-Gon had been to finally hear his own after several decades of waiting.  


* * *

  
In the depths of Coruscant's underground, Obi-Wan watched as a heavily encrypted call was trying to connect. He smiled when a harsh voice picked up.  
  
« Who's this ? »

Instead of a reply, he answered with several harsh words, powerful enough to be felt in the air around him even though they had been whispered in the comlink.  
Obi-Wan heard the screech of ripped metal and a surge of triumph and hope went through him.  
It _worked_.  
  
« Kriff... You son of a bitch, » said the stunned voice on the other side of the call. « You did it. You actually did it. »  
« You're free, now, » answered Obi-Wan. « Get out of there. »  
« ...Ah, but you're forgetting something. I'm not indebted to anyone. »  
  
He could hear the other's smirk. Sith-dammit, he should have known they would be difficult.  
  
« It was a self-interested test, » he growled.  
« Right, of course. But you left something behind, didn't you ? Something precious. I'll keep an eye on it. »  
  
Obi-Wan wanted to refuse but his guilt and selfishness stopped him.  
  
« Thank you. »  
« Don't thank me. Hurry up. »  


* * *

  
Breathe in. Breathe out.  
Obi-Wan was waiting, meditating in one of Coruscant's expensive parks. Someone was coming for him, the Force had been whispering so the very moment he snuck out of the Temple.  
Most of his plans were in motion, he could finally allow himself some time and wait for his pursuer.  
  
He was unable to reach the calmness required for meditation without a focus, and so, he crossed his hands over the mark on his chest. His soulmate's chest.  
He was still astonished the Sith spell had worked. It was normally used between bonded soulmates, people that had already met and had lived with each other for years, that knew each other's mind.  
  
But Obi-Wan and his soulmate had something else.  
  
As soon as he thought about it, the memory overwhelmed him, and he was back on Tatooine.  


* * *

  
He could feel the stifling heat, the crunch of sand under his boots, the sweat running on his back, the hot air almost choking him after the regulated temperature above the Queen's ship.  
Her 'handmaiden' had returned earlier with Jar Jar Binks, saying that his Master would be arriving later, busy negotiating for two slaves' freedom.  
Obi-Wan had felt his Master's shock and joy and knew one of them had to be his soulmate. That was wonderful news.  
But Qui-Gon had been running late, crossing the desert with a young boy and a woman tired by a life spent in servitude, and they were attacked hundreds of meters before they reached the ship.  
  
Luckily, they were still in view and Obi-Wan ordered the pilot to take off and join them. Qui-Gon was driving his opponent away from the two others, and they picked them first.  
« I'll go and help my Master. » he said to the woman. « Go tell the pilot to take off again and to fly low, we'll jump aboard and fly off. »  
  
Not waiting for a response, he jumped out of the ship and ran to Qui-Gon.  
His opponent was a red Zabrak clad in black and wielding a red lightsaber he was obviously trained to use, and use well.  
Obi-Wan joined the fight, bringing some much needed support, and for a moment, he really believed they would make it.  
  
The Nuubian ship flew above them and his Master jumped inside, collapsing as soon as he landed. Obi-Wan was about to do the same when he saw an opening in the Zabrak's guard. He took it and bisected the Sith from collarbone to hip.  
He didn't expect the end of his opponent's lightsaber to ignite as he fell, the other blade spearing him through the chest.  
  
He died.  
  
Obi-Wan died, as his heart was scratched and cauterized in the same blow. All his bonds were broken, the training one with Qui-Gon, those he had with his friends, the thousands of invisible ones connecting him to the Jedi and the Force, all of them disappeared as his heart stuttered shut.  
On his chest, the words began to fade as his last bond, the one linking him to his fated soulmate, was ripped free.  
  
NO !  
  
Obi-Wan clung on. With desperation and will stronger than death itself, he latched on that frayed bond, curled around it, brought the tattered edges back together.  
His life-force was draining, was drained, but another was there, at the other side of the bond, and he used it without thought.  
On his skin, the words blurred. But they did not fade into an empty outline, and his heart started again.  
  
On Kamino, a clone began to dream about sand.  


* * *

  
On the ship, Qui-Gon froze as his training bond with Obi-Wan snapped, and between the shock and the exhaustion, did not find his voice in time to prevent the ship from leaving. They were out of Tatooine's atmosphere before he even reached the cockpit.  
By the time they came back to the planet, the desert had hidden Obi-Wan's body in a sand grave.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan jolted out of the memory, before the worst part of it could come to the surface of his brain.

That was not something he wanted to remember right now.

His heartbeat was just slowing down when someone stopped in front of him, casting a wide shadow upon him.

Seconds after, a lightsaber blade ignited next to his neck.

« You are not Rex, » said an irritated voice.

Obi-Wan had to grip his knees, otherwise, he would have jumped for this threat’s throat. His mate’s body was almost as trained as his own ; the Jedi in front of him would be dead in seconds.

Instead, he opened his eyes and stared at the tall figure of his former Master.  


* * *

  
Qui-Gon had been tracking Rex for six whole days, now. The clone captain better have a good explanation, for disappearing like that, and then for the places he had obviously visited. An arms dealer shop, lots of shady places in the underworld, a very questionable surgeon, brothels, corrupt bookkeepers, crime lords… the scum of the planet and Qui-Gon could still feel the stench clinging to his robes.

From his Commander's irritated reports, Qui-Gon knew that Cody was as frustrated as he was with his wayward brother's actions. Once Rex explained himself to the Jedi, he would have to deal with a very pissed of Cody, and Qui-Gon did not want to be in his place.

At last, the clone captain had headed back, leaving Coruscant’s underbelly and had been spotted by one of the security cameras in one of the main city imported parks.

The Jedi Master was almost certain that he would, once more, arrive too late, dogging Rex’s steps but never catching up to him.

However this time, he could see the familiar silhouette up ahead, kneeling under a tree.

If he had wanted to rest under a tree, he could and should have stayed at the Temple !

Sighing, the Jedi jogged to join the clone but, the nearer he got, the warier he grew. There was something deeply wrong with Rex’s Force-presence. It was clearly the clone’s but deeper, like he had somehow been using the Force for the last week, and… displaced. Like a rock lifted from the ground and put back in place, but slightly off its previous spot.

He was still willing to give his long-time trusted, loyal soldier the benefit of the doubt until he saw the rod hanging at the clone’s hip.

Jedi Master Tholme had been a good friend of Qui-Gon’s ; they had been in the creche together though Tholme had been a few years older than him.

They had taken on Padawans at the same time, and young Quinlan Vos and, and Obi-Wan, had been friends as well.

But Tholme had disappeared during the first months of the Droid Wars. The words on the arm of Tholme’s soulmate had disappeared, leaving only the empty lines behind, and they had known he was dead, though they never found his body.

On Rex’s hip, there was Tholme’s lightsaber.

Qui-Gon’s already fraught temper snapped and he ignited his lightsaber and placed it at the clone’s throat.

« You are not Rex, » he growled, incensed.

The man in front of him opened his eyes, and a stranger looked at him from Rex’s face.

« I am not, » he agreed.  
« Where is he then ? »  
« Safe. »

Qui-Gon almost executed him on the spot for the obvious lie.  
  
Unfazed by the very irritated Jedi Master with a deadly weapon at his throat, the impostor wearing Rex's body gave Qui-Gon a small smile.  
  
« You're attracting attention, Master Jedi. »  
  
Qui-Gon knew he was right : he could already feel the stares sent their way. Reluctantly, he shut down his 'saber.  
  
« You will follow me to the Temple, » he ordered.  
  
Rex-but-not rose smoothly to his feet, nodding.  
  
« I will. I will then meet your Council. »  
  
Qui-Gon almost choked, staring at him.  
  
« You're a threat, an imposter, I have absolutely no idea of what your intentions or plans are, and you want me to put you in front of the Jedi Council ? Are you mad ? You will not step inside that chamber until I'm absolutely certain that you will not try something shady. »  
  
Cold, impersonal, foreign eyes stared at him from a very well-known face.  
  
« I'm not asking, I'm telling you, Qui-Gon Jinn. Even if you're in no way disposed to believe a word I say, I'm in a hurry to see Captain Rex back to his rightful place, and I did not put him at risk to be delayed by you. There are billions of lives at stake, so either you're taking me to the Council, or I'll storm the Temple on my own. »  
  
Qui-Gon stared at him, speechless.  
  
« You are... not bluffing, » he realized when his voice came back to him. « Why would... How... What in the Force is WRONG with you ? »  
  
Rex-but-not shrugged.  
  
« A lot of things. But that's not the time nor the place to make the list. Can we leave ? We're wasting time. »  
« I am done listening to your nonsense, » growled the Jedi. « We're going to the Temple, but you'll see Mind Healers long before I let you step a foot in the Council Chamber. »  
  
Rex-but-not sighed.  
  
« Fine, I'll do it on my own, then. »  
  
He turned to leave, and walked right into Cody's fist. The clone hit him on the side of the head and Qui-Gon barely managed to catch the body as he fell, knocked out.  
  
« Thank you, Cody. »  
« That is NOT Rex, » snarled the clone commander, glaring at his brother's unconcious form. « What the hell happened ? »  
« I don't know. » sighed Qui-Gon. « Let's go back to the Temple to try to find out. »  


* * *

  
Once they were back at the Temple, the Healers were of absolutely no help.  
  
« I don't know what you want me to say, Qui-Gon. » sighed Master Che. « My Healers are quite certain, I even checked myself upon your insistance, this is the same man that was in my Halls a week ago. There is nothing wrong with him, apart from his previous injuries and the newly fractured cheekbone. »  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. He didn't like the news, but his commander would hate it.  
Speaking of the devil, where was he ?  


* * *

  
Cody stared at the unmoving form of his brother. Brother's body, at least, for the soul in there was not Rex's.  
When you have been surrounded your whole life by millions of bodies just like your own, you learn how to tell a brother apart from another. It may be a bit more difficult with some vode, if you don't know them, but there are hundreds of little signs that they can all read, differentiating them and marking their individualities.  
  
This was Rex's body, down to the faintest scar, but all his tells were wrong : the posture, the set of the shoulders, his way of breathing, everything.  
It was disturbing, and infuriating.  
  
On the bed, the stranger wearing his vod's body opened an eye. He was sitting cross-legged, wearing only a pair of light pants. His armor and possessions, especially the lightsaber had been confiscated.  
He was also shackled by one wrist to the bedframe.  
  
« You're staring. »  
  
Cody scowled.  
  
« I'm wondering if shooting and killing you will get us Rex back. »  
  
The man winced.  
  
« Please don't, » he answered.  
« Afraid for your life ? »  
« Afraid for his. »  
  
The clone commander crossed his arms, still glaring.  
  
« Why are you here, then ? Where is Rex ? »  
« In my place. »  


* * *

  
Rex stared at his strange reflection.  
Even after a week, he was not used to the pale skin, the red and gold hair, the blue eyes, the wrong scars in the wrong places.  
He was in the Assassin's body, and the Assassin was his miit'jorir, as proven by the blurred words on the left side of his chest, half-hidden by that blasted gorget.  
  
A week ago, that thought would have horrified him. The Assassin had killed thousands of his brothers, was the Jate'kara Shukur, was the closest thing the clones had for a boogeyman... and he was Rex's miit'jorir. A week ago, he would have felt sick. He had, when he first stared at his reflection, still disoriented by the body-switch.  
  
But then, he had seen the memory left for him. The images had been so vivid, he felt like he could still see the bloody handprint left on both the mirror and his chest, and hear his soulmate's words.  
They were linked. Rex's dreams had been his miit'jorir's memories.  
His soulmate had been in pain for more than a decade. Caged, enslaved, tortured, a spectator to his body's actions. He was literally collared, leashed like an attack dog, a puppet between Dooku's hands.  
  
Rex sighed, and began to wrap the complex armor his upper torso was clad in. It took him almost an hour, the first time, to understand where each part went, a difficult wrapping of leather and metal, snuggly tucked under the cortosis gorget and vambraces.  
The Sith Lord had summoned him and he was going to play the part his miit'jorir needed him to fit. The man had promised to come for him, and Rex would endure in the meantime. What were a few weeks against a decade of suffering ? He could buy his soulmate the time he needed.  
  
Before leaving the rooms, Rex closed his eyes, feeling the pain his abused body was in, the spikes inside the gorget piercing his skin, the burning in his veins from the drugs. He reminded himself that was what his miit'jorir had been subjected to for twelve years. He thought about the absolute agony serving without loyalty, fighting without belief, killing without consent must have been.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, the burning amber gaze of the Assassin stared back at him.  


* * *

  
« What did you just say ? » hissed Cody.

« You heard, » answered his not-brother. « I was able to switch places with him because we are soulmates. Miit'jorire, you call them. »  
  
Cody stepped closer to the imposter and gripped his shoulder painfully.  
  
« I am well aware of the Basic translation for miit'jorir, thank you, » he spat. « Why should I believe you ? »  
« I would not have told you if I could have avoided it. But you will not help me without reason, and this is the only thing I can tell you that will give you one, » sighed the man. « I will ask that you do not tell another soul, not even Master Jinn. »  
« You are still assuming I'm inclined to believe you, » growled Cody, his fingers digging painfully into the other's skin.  
  
His thumb pressed onto the collarbone and, suddenly, his wrist was caged in a vicious grip, Rex's strong hand almost crushing the bones.  
They both released each other at the same time, the man as if Cody's skin was burning him, Cody by pure reflex upon seeing a brother's panicked, instinctive reaction to pain.  
They stared at each other in silence, before the man inside his brother's skin sighed.  
  
« Rex told you about his dreams, » he offered. « At first, you thought that they were the same as yours, but nowadays, you wonder. You've heard some strange details, you've seen how they tire him out, and you're not so sure now. However, you've seen how your explanation appeased him, so you're not saying anything, because you are worried about him. »  
  
Cody stared. That was not just a parasite reading his brother's mind and memories. That was analysis. Rex was not aware of Cody's thoughts on the matter, the clone could bet his life on that. And yet, here was someone who knew.  
  
« Rex's dreams... » he realized. « They're not dreams. They are... yours, your memories, your life, maybe. And you've been seeing his. »  
« I'm impressed, » nodded the other. « Yes. And now you have an inkling of the hell I have sent my own soulmate to. I need to switch our places again, but for that, I cannot be stopped at every turn by well-meaning Jedi. I need your help, vod, _please_. »  
  
He offered his hand to Cody, the shackle resting uselessly on the bed, having never been an obstacle in the first place.  
The clone commander looked at the casual display of competence, the heartfelt words, the flawless Mando'a use for the last phrase... that was masterfully done.  
  
He clasped his brother's forearm.  
  
« I can already tell you're as insufferable as he is. »  


* * *

  
The holo of Anakin looked ready to break his comlink.  
  
« Let me get this straight. Rex is missing, again, a few hours after you found him, and now Cody is as well. »  
  
Qui-Gon winced. That was a good but awful summary.  
  
« Yes. »  
« I'm not sure you should be the head of the Third Systems Armies if you keep on losing clones, » muttered the young Knight. «Where's Snips ? After the dressing down she gave him, I thought she would have been glued to him. »  
  
Qui-Gon sighed.  
  
« Yes. And since she has disappeared as well, I'm hoping she's with them. »  
« Snips is actually better than you. » snorted Anakin. « Is Mom with you ? I need to mock you in front of someone. »  
« Brat, » growled Qui-Gon. « No, she's not, she's at Padmé's. »  
« Great, I'll have two people to listen as I talk about the too-old Jedi Master and Councilor. »  
  
Anakin did not even wait for an answer as he ended the commcall. Young knights had no respect anymore.  
  
« Oh Force I'm getting old. »  


* * *

  
« ...and I'm pretty sure he is mumbling about respect for the elders, tradition and all that, » laughed Anakin. « Anyway, I'm sure Snips will find them. No news on your side, love ? »  
  
Padmé shook her head.  
  
« No, sorry. I'll call you if I have any. »  
« And feel free to call as well, Ani, » added Shmi, softly smiling to the blue-hologram of her son. « I know you are busy, but I miss you. »  
« I miss you too, Mom, » answered Anakin. « I'll try to call more often. »  
  
The call disconnected and both women turned to glare at the two men hidden in the shadows of the door.  
  
« Young men, I hope you have a very good reason for asking us lie to my son, » said Shmi with a cold voice.  
  
Cody crossed his arms and nudged his brother with a small movement of the foot.  
  
« I do, my Lady, » answered Aaraysheb.  
  
Cody felt that 'pain in the ass' was an accurate name for his brother's miit'jorir. He would not give his own, Cody refused to call him Rex, but everyone deserved a name.  
Also, it was a very accurate name for the trouble the man was bringing with him. Senator Amidala's face was falling as the man kept on talking.  
  
« So, what you are telling me is that someone in the Chancellor's office is helping me with my clones' rights campaign to... blind me, » resumed the Senator, lips pinched.  
« And it seems to be working, too, » continued Aaraysheb. « Why is no one in the Senate wondering why the Olanet victory did not win us the war ? Everyone seems to be of the opinion that, had we lost it, the Separatists would have won. But on our side, it's just a victory, almost not a major one. Instead, they gave a medal to, well, me, you followed in the wake to bring more attention to our rights, and nobody is wondering. »  
  
Shmi frowned.  
  
« Was it that important ? I know Anakin was terribly wounded, but from what I heard, it was just a droid factory... »  
  
Aaraysheb smirked and waved a hand at her.  
  
« And there it is, the public opinion already changed compared to a month ago. It was not just a droid factory, it was one of the biggest in the Separatist's arsenal, second only to the Geonosis one. It was the equivalent of the GAR losing a third of its numbers. »  
  
Padmé winced, horrified.  
  
« I... can't believe I did not see that, » she whispered, bringing up the numbers on her datapad, staring at them. « We should... we should be winning, at the least. »  
« You were rather... distracted by your husband's injuries, » Aaraysheb pointed out.  
« I had to fight my homeworld rules about married politicians, do not try to comfort me by saying I failed and fell into that very weakness ! »  
  
Shmi placed a hand on her arm.  
  
« You're not the one at fault, Padmé, » she said. « The whole Senate has been blindsided. »  
  
She looked at the clones.  
  
« What should we do ? »  
« Investigate, » answered Aaraysheb. « Find who's misleading you, who's using your campaign as a distraction. I know for sure that the Sith Lord is a leading hand in the Senate's political direction, and has someone in the Chancellor's close circle. Maybe he is one of them, but that is pure speculation. »  
  
And wasn't that an irritating point. After twelve years at Dooku's feet, he was still not sure about Sidious' identity.  
He had strong suspicions, but would not send Skywalker's wife to her death without certitudes. Names were very powerful, he wanted her to find proof on her own.  
He was also placing his trust in her only based on his soulmate's. That was not an easy thing.  
  
« That does not explain why we could not have this discussion with my husband, » Padmé said, trying to find her footing.

« Of course it does. Communication are very easily intercepted, listened to. I will not put my first chance in years at risk like that. »  
  
Padmé sighed.  
  
« I guess I have to agree with you, » she admitted. « I will look into it. But don't expect me to blindly put my faith in you. »  
  
The clone bowed.  
  
« If you did, my Lady, so soon after what I told you, I would lose my own in you. »  


* * *

  
Ahsoka was feeling like a little mouse, listening to a conversation she was clearly not welcome to. Padmé and Shmi were talking to Cody and Rex, something she would normally have been easily included in, but... they were talking about politics, about corruption, plots, conspiracies...  
And Rex... Rex was not himself. Master Qui-Gon had not been very fothcoming with the reason for Rex's disappearance, that was the whole point of her following him directly, but now, she was even more lost.  
  
She needed her Master's advice, or that of her grand-Master. She slowly retreated, but her elbow bumped on an ornamental vase and she watched, horrified, as it felt off the small table.  
At the last moment, she remembered that she was a Jedi Padawan, and stopped the object with the Force, barely a centimeter off the floor.  
She silently sighed in relief.  
  
She promptly screamed as a green lightsaber blade pierced the wall, almost stabbing her through the shoulder. She drew her own sabers as Rex ran to her, the ignited weapon in his hand, fury on his face.  
Cody followed just as his brother swung his weapon at Ahsoka, the confused young woman parrying without attacking.  
  
« Stop ! Aaraysheb, for Force's sake ! She's not a threat ! »  
  
The clone stepped away, but he did not disengage his weapon. He looked at her and frowned, before finally he seemed to recognize her.

« Sith hells, Rex, what was that ? » she yelped at him, shocked. « Also, why do you have a lightsaber ? How do you know how to use it ?? »  
  
Cody glared at his brother.  
  
« I would also love to hear when you took _that_ back, » he growled.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan smirked at Cody. Like he would have left Tholme's lightsaber, his only weapon, behind. When they took his clothes back, it was a quick thing to collect the saber from the healers' safe.  
  
He brought his attention back to the Togruta who was looking at him with wounded, betrayed eyes. Of course, she was only seeing Rex, someone she was very close to. Obi-Wan barely knew her, Rex's dreams very rarely featured Skywalker's apprentice, and most of the ones that did where violent and bloody.  
When he had felt someone spying on them, and the Force-use, he had reacted on instinct, and almost killed his soulmate's friend.  
  
« If you're going to play the little spy, you should be more discreet, » he said to her.  
  
She scowled at him.  
  
« If you were not acting so weirdly, I would not spy on you, » she answered.  
  
She deactivated her lightsabers and, after a second, Obi-Wan did the same, though he did not clip the weapon at his hip. It was hard enough, getting himself sufficiently under control not to use the Dark Side while in his mate's body. He would not feel more endangered than he had too.  
  
« Let's go back to the living room, » he ordered. « There are some things you must know, some you will not repeat out of this room, and then, we'll go back to the Temple. »  


* * *

  
Qui-Gon could not believe he had not thought about checking the Council Chamber. He _knew_ that Rex-but-not wanted to talk to the Masters, the man had told him so, and yet... it had taken a summon from Master Yoda to realize where Rex-but-not probably was.  
As soon as he arrived, he knew he had found his wayward clones. Cody was standing outside the room, at attention like he was guarding it, and Ahsoka was there too.  
When she saw him, she smiled.  
  
« Took you long enough, Master, » she teased him.  
« I am not amused, Ahsoka, » sighed the Qui-Gon. « I've been running everywhere. »  
  
The young Togruta nodded.  
  
« Don't worry, Master. Aaraysheb is inside, Cody and I are here, everyone is back at the Temple. »  
  
Qui-Gon frowned at the name, and even more so when he translated it with his few notions of the Mandalorian language.  
  
« Ass...pain ? »  
  
Ahsoka snorted as Cody explained.  
  
« More or less, » said the clone commander. « This is not Rex, and I will not call him so, but he refused to tell us his real name. After the endless chase he led us through, I felt this was an appropriate compromise. »  
  
Qui-Gon had to admit, that... was pretty accurate.  
  
« And so, he is inside, » he repeated, feeling twarted.  
  
Rex-but-not, Aaraysheb, had had his way after all.  
  
« Will you stop me from going in ? » he asked his Commander.  
  
Cody frowned.  
  
« Why would I ? He has good reasons to be in here, and you have as well. You're a Councilor, and should hear what he has to say, » he reasoned, stepping aside to let his General in.  
  
Inside the Council chamber, there was a deadly silence, as Rex-but-not (it would take him some time for Cody's name to stick) was kneeling in front of Master Yoda, his head bowed, the old Master's hand pressed to the clone's temple.  
  
« At last, » sighed Mace when he turned his head. « You are late, Qui-Gon. »  
« I was on the other side of the Temple, » Qui-Gon answered. « Master Yoda, what are... »  
« A chip in his head, there was, » replied Yoda. « True for all the clones, he claims. And that control the clones against their will, these chips can. »  
  
Rex-but-not got up, taking a step back.  
  
« They can, and you'll find most of the orders once you analyse them, though between the bioware and the heavy encryption, it could take some time. »  
« Without proof, we cannot demobilize the whole army to open their heads, » said Eeth Koth. « The war is still going on. »  
  
Mace nodded, his arms crossed, defensive.  
  
« We are all able to discern that you are not Skywalker’s Captain, you refuse to tell us who you were before you hijacked this clone's body, and now, you are only offering a scar, a small chip and the echo of its presence inside your head as proof. »  
« You went to a surgeon, » remembered Qui-Gon. « One of the places you visited in Coruscant's underground was a surgeon's. »  
  
The Master's intervention, and the clone's nod, provoked whispers among the Councilors.  
  
Some were taking that as the proof the clone really had the small piece of technology inside his head.  
Most were thinking this could be the sign of a deception.  
  
« More to say, you have ? » asked the Grand Master.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan carefully controlled his breathing. Unknowingly, Qui-Gon Jinn had perfectly played his role, planting seeds of doubt inside the Jedi's mind.  
Now, they would ask for more. They would want a concrete proof, before agreeing to the dechipping of the whole army.  
Obi-Wan could have offered 'himself', his mate's body, as a test subject instead of going to an illegal surgeon. But one, he did not want to be vulnerable inside the Jedi Temple and two, there was still the risk they would not have agreed to operate on him BEFORE obtaining more proof, and he would not have that blasted chip inside his soulmate's body longer than it had to be.  
  
« What can I say that would convince you ? » he asked. « I will not tell you my name, which would not help you nor me. »  
« From the Confederacy, you are, » guessed Master Yoda.  
  
Once more, they were thinking what Obi-Wan wanted them to see. Gods, it was no wonder the Sith Lord was making them dance to his tune.  
  
« Yes. And in no position of leaving, which was the whole reason for this dangerous switch, » he answered.  
  
Perfectly true and yet perfectly misleading.  
  
« A higher up, then, » speculated Master Koon. « You would have been free to leave otherwise. »  
« Then, if you are somewhere in the chain of command, you have lots of potential proofs, » continued Master Koth.  
« Yes, » said Obi-Wan. « And I will not say a thing. »  
  
Master Windu slammed his hands on his chair's sides.  
  
« For Force's sake ! You are not being helpful ! Do you want our help or not ? »  
« I do, but you're forgetting that this body's soul is in my place, right now ! I will not put him in danger for the sake of your politics, or the Senate's. »  
  
The Council Room exploded in voices, as Jedi Masters, pillars of wisdom and calm, began to argue like unruly children.  
Qui-Gon finally raised his voice.  
  
« Enough ! A few pieces of information are not worth such a price. We could lose a faithful clone captain, a recent ally, or both of them. Is there something else you can offer us ? »  
  
Obi-Wan suppressed his smile, nodding with a frown.  
  
« Yes, I think so, though it is risky. I was not supposed to hear such information, and so, the doubts will not turn on my body if you stop that. »  
« Then you should have told us that first, » sighed Plo Koon. « What do you mean, risky ? »  
« It could be the chance for the Republic to kill the Assassin, » answered Obi-Wan.  
  
The room erupted in noise once more.  


* * *

  
« Summoned again, little dog ? »  
  
Rex sighed as Asajj Ventress made her way through the corridor to him. The Sith Lady was often here, on Serenno, as she was Dooku's apprentice.  
It seemed her favorite game was Assassin baiting. Every time she would come across him in the corridors, she would either flirt with him, tease him, provoke him, fight him... she seemed to delight in his obvious frustration.  
Each time he made a movement to retaliate, the collar around his throat would choke him, and she would leave with a laugh.  
  
Insufferable bitch.  
  
Though there were moments when she was slightly different. The most obvious one had been on the day of his arrival here. She had been the very first person he had seen, and she had attacked before he even realized he was facing Ventress.  
He had been slammed against the wall and, when he had tried to hit her, ended up frozen, locked up in his own body.  
  
« What are you playing at, you stupid fuck ? » she had growled. « Your eyes are blue ! »  
« Asajj ! »  
  
Dooku had arrived, and forced her to step aside.  
Soon after, the Sith had made the exact same conclusion and Rex had _not_ liked the consequences. He had soon learned how to force his eyes to shine with an amber glow, thinking about his miit'jorir's torment, or, when he could not manage it, put his mask on.  
  
He was forced to admit that on that day, she had been helpful, though that was maybe not her intention.  
  
« As you are, if you're gracing us with your presence, » he answered with a disinterested handwave.  
She hated it when he ignored her. He didn't have to wait for long before she swung her hand at him.  
He raised an arm, not attacking, simply parrying, and she knocked her fist against his cortosis vambrace, hissing at the pain.  
In more than a week, he had learned how to fight against the gorget's restrictions, as long as Dooku did not give him commands.  
  
Those, he could not fight. His body would act without his consent, he would only be the unwilling vessel.  
  
However, being unable to attack was a major handicap, and he ended up once more slammed against a wall.  
  
« You should not be too cocky, » she growled against his ear. « You would not want to attract our Master's attention, would you ? I will begin to think that you like the pain... »  
  
The insane woman bit him on the earlobe and he jerked, trying to push her away. She knocked the breath out of him, ramming her fist in his gut.  
  
« Stop attracting attention, you dumb fuck. He is coming for you. »  
  
A harsh word in a language that made his head hurt froze him on the spot. A command phrase for the gorget, one of the basic ones that locked him up.  
To Rex's astonishment, he noticed that Ventress was frozen too.  
  
« Step away, » ordered Tyrannus, and Ventress did so.  
  
A handwave later, her body relaxed.  
  
« Do not disobey me again, Asajj. Come, both of you. »  
  
Rex was made to follow and he did not have to search very far to find the hate to make his eyes burn.  
At least, while he was not busy controlling his own body, he could dwell on Ventress' strange warning.  


* * *

  
The actual idea behind the trap was quite simple : there was a secret trip planned to Illum for Initiates and Padawans (the first for their lessons, the seconds to get their very first crystals) in two weeks time. Switch out the actuals younglings with some who had both acting and fighting skills, put more Jedi Masters than expected on the ship, wait for the Assassin to attack, kill him, job done.  
  
Once more, the theory was not holding up to the reality. Once the Masters had gotten past their cries of outrage when Aaraysheb revealed the CIS knew about the 'secret' trip, there were endless bickering about who to send, how many, with which ship...  
  
Gods, no wonder Obi-Wan preferred acting solo. A Jedi alone was tiresome.  
In a group, they were an eternally unending headache.  
  
Leaving the wise Masters to squabble in peace, he left without being noticed to find a quiet place where he could meditate. To keep his calm and not send every Master in range in a panic when they would felt the Dark Side, he needed to do this quite a lot, but it was worth the struggle not to taint Rex's body.  
Captain Rex. He had no rights to familiarity.  
  
With a sigh, he settled down in the first alcove he found, and closed his eyes. He had just begun to relax, his breathing evening out, when a furious presence in the Force washed over him, tensing his shoulders and ruining all he had accomplished.  
Gripping his knees, he opened his eyes, to meet Quinlan Vos' glare.  
  
« Where did you get that lightsaber ? » growled the Jedi Master.  
  
Obi-Wan hid his wince. He had almost forgotten : the saber used to belong to Quinlan's Master.  
  
« At a pawnshop, » he answered with a bored voice. « I can sell it back to you, but it cost me quite the handful of credits. »  
  
Of course, his answer angered the Jedi.  
  
« You have no rights to bear that weapon. »  
« Then come and get it, » provoked Obi-Wan in response, opening his hands as if he was inviting Quinlan to attack.  
  
For a second, he thought the Kiffar would actually go through with it but, with a snarl, the Jedi stepped back.  
  
« I don't care what the Council will decide. I do not trust you, and will keep an eye on you. »  
« Lucky me, » drawled his former friend.  
  
Not that Quinlan knew who he was talking to.  


* * *

  
Rex realized too late that he had been lucky until now. He mostly had to endure hellish training sessions, Ventress' attitude and violent pseudo-flirting, and the unending, constant pain the gorget put him in.  
No actual missions. He did not have to kill his own brothers while he was a helpless spectator.  
  
But now, Ventress and he were sent on a mission. There was a cargo ship that would leave Coruscant in a week. Officially, it was going to Telos, for a supply run.  
In reality, the ship was transporting Jedi younglings and, when they would jump to hyperspace, they would not exit in the Kwymar sector but in the 7G one, as they were going to the planet Illum.  
The two Sith were supposed to board the ship, and leave an empty husk behind.  
They had to kill dozens of little ones.  
  
Rex almost jumped on Ventress when she smiled and whistled as she nodded her enthusiastic accord. Scratch all the theories he had made in her potential favor, she was not some kind of strange and reluctant friend, allied with him in their obedience to Dooku ; she was simply batshit insane.  
While the clone had wondered how to escape that awful assignment, or at least find a way to warn someone, Dooku must have felt his horror and reluctance, and the Sith Lord spoke the words that stripped him of his control.  
He was once more the unwilling passenger of a well-trained, deadly meat droid. Except this time, it was to kill.  
  
Rex screamed inside his own head, unable to do a single thing.  


* * *

  
Qui-Gon actually sighed in relief when the _Terraform_ 's hatch closed behind them. It had been a struggle to prepare the whole operation and he was relieved there was only the actual flight and fight to go, now.  
Part of the Council had wanted to go with a heavy-handed approach : half an armada hidden in the ship instead of the children.  
The rest voted in favor of a stealthier approach, with two or three Jedi Masters to deal with the Assassin.  
  
It was that one that had finally been agreed upon : they had already, during the war, tried to overwhelm the Assassin with dozens, hundreds of opponents, though most of them had been clones and not Jedi.  
It did not make a difference, and they ended up shooting at each other more than at the killer.  
  
From the beginning, Aaraysheb himself had been in favor of the second option. Even if most of the Council members were reserving their judgement on the man, they had allowed him that small portion of faith.  
So there were only three Jedi on board : Ahsoka, a Senior Padawan, soon to be Knighted, who was the only one here officially, to give the illusion of a wholly unprepared crew of children ; Qui-Gon himself and... well, Quinlan Vos had insisted to come and, since the Jedi Master was an exceptional duelist, he was supposed to be their third. However...  
  
« Quinlan will forgive me for switching with him. You know, it's the first time I'm relieved to have spent so little time on Coruscant, » grinned Anakin, absolutely unrepentant.  
« Since you were not supposed to be there in the first place, Anakin, I would not gloat, » replied Qui-Gon. « Your flimsy excuse about accompanying one of your men to see your wife... »  
« Hey ! Padmé and Jesse have an actual friendship. A dangerous and explosive one, but it's real, and since Jesse and Kix are part of the group affected by that new leave legislation for bonded clones... »  
  
Qui-Gon pinched his nose.  
  
« To each other. They are bonded to each other, Anakin. »  
« Well, isn't _that_ an interesting loophole, » smirked the young man.  
  
Suddenly, his former Master was reminded that Anakin _was_ married to one of the sharpest political minds of the galaxy. And that his mother, Qui-Gon own soulmate, was no slouch either in the wits department.  
Debates with her was one of Qui-Gon's greatest pleasures.  
  
« Anyway, I wanted to see what was happening with Rex, well, Aaraysheb for now, for myself. If I get the chance to get back at the Assassin for the beating he gave me six months ago, well, that's just the icing on the cake, » shrugged Anakin.  
  
Qui-Gon frowned at him, shaking his head. His former Padawan had had a vengeful streak a klik wide when he was still under his tutelage. Years among the Jedi and under his wife and mother's soothing influence had mainly cured him of it, but he still remained somewhat of a sore loser.  
  
With them, there were twenty younglings, all of them among the best and brightest of the Initiates and young Padawans. They were disciplined enough to follow the plan and retreat from the fight scene as soon as their cover was blown, but gifted enough to fight if need be.  
And, of course, both Cody and Aaraysheb were with them.  
  
Twenty-five souls, most of them shining through the Light, a perfect bait for the Sith's dog.  
  
The Jedi Master tilted his head. Twenty-five souls. Anakin was with Cody and Aaraysheb, in the room he had just left, Ahsoka was in the cockpit, the younglings were in the cargo hold...  
So, who was the presence he could barely feel in one of the escape pods ?  


* * *

  
Rex had been fighting against himself for a whole week and was utterly exhausted. He had still left Serenno, was still immured inside his armor and mask, inside a ship piloted by Ventress, waiting at the most likely exit point for a ship going to Illum.  
It had not, however, completely been in vain. Fury and despair were burning through his veins and, sometimes, he would actually be the master of his own body. It never lasted more than a few seconds, but much could be achieved in such a short span of time, if it was well-timed.  
  
He prayed to the stars that the Jedi would not be too kriffin' predictable, would choose another exit point, would be careful, paranoid even...  
When the cargo ship exited hyperspace right in front of them, he knew he could not be so lucky.  
  
But if it came down to it, to choose between killing children, or using his fought-for autonomy to freeze and let a lightsaber pierce his chest... he was not sure he would be able to sacrifice his soulmate's body, not with the very real risk it could very well kill him.  


* * *

  
« By the Force, what in the Sith-hells are you doing here, Quinlan Vos ?? » growled Qui-Gon when the young Kiffar exited the pod he had stowed away in.  
« Keeping an eye on our body-snatcher, » answered Quinlan on the same tone. « I do not trust him, and this could be the perfect opportunity for the Confederacy to get rid of a very large group of Jedi. »  
  
The Jedi Master pinched his nose.  
  
« Is this about Tholme's lightsaber ? » he asked.  
  
Quinlan's flinch was an answer on its own.  
  
« Quinlan, I saw it, like you, and did not like the implications, like you. However, unlike you, I actually asked Aaraysheb about it. Your Master was a dear friend of mine, and we still don't know how he died. I would have liked an answer, even a bad one, if it could bring us truth. »  
« And what did he say ? » snarled the Kiffar. « Let me guess, a quip about a pawnshop. »  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. Aaraysheb had been amazingly tight-lipped on the subject, but had reluctantly admitted that it had been in the possession of a... collector of sorts, who specialized in prized relics, in the belly of Coruscant's underworld, one of his little disappearance's stops.  
  
« Not quite, though I'm not surprised he tried to rile you up if you talked to him like that, » he berated the other Jedi. « More like a shady bootlegger with a passion for illegal objects. He did not know where it came from. »  
« And of course, you believed him, » snorted Quinlan, crossing his arms. « Is there something you are not telling us, Master Jinn ? »  
« What do you mean ? »  
  
The Kiffar made a wide gesture with one arm, before crossing them again.  
  
« Oh, come on. You stare at him like he is the greatest mystery in the galaxy, while he talks to you like you have offended him on a deep level, if he is not immediately leaving the room once you enter. »  
« I... had not noticed, » Qui-Gon had to admit.  
  
Though it was true. Something was out of place with Aaraysheb, something more than the disturbing Force-presence of not-quite-Rex, something he could not quite put his finger on, and it had been bugging him for two weeks.  
Always a fan of explaining oddities, he probably had been seeking out the man more than would have been appropriate and, now that he was thinking about it, it was true that he only managed to talk to him when Cody or Ahsoka had been in the same room.  
Otherwise, Aaraysheb had fled.  
Had he somehow offended the man ?  
  
The conversation was cut short because, as soon as they exited hyperspace, their ship was attacked. Qui-Gon immediately left for the corridor leading to the cargo hold. The younglings would obviously be the Assassin's target ; he would be stopped there.  
  
Quinlan left as well, but ran to the cockpit. Skywalker and young Ahsoka passed him, giving him strange looks but they did not stop, preoccupied by more pressing matters.  
When the young Jedi Master came across the two clones, he let Qui-Gon's commander pass, but barred the path of the other.  
  
« Move aside ! » growled the so-called Aaraysheb.  
« I will not. You want the Council to trust you ? Stay here and do not interfere, » Quinlan ordered. « If you do, then I'll believe you when you pretend you do not have other motives. »  
  
There was a moment of stillness, before the impostor threw himself at the Jedi, the lightsaber he had no right to wield ignited.  
Quinlan did not need much more provocation to retaliate, and the two engaged in a fast-paced fight.  


* * *

  
With the delicacy that characterized her, Ventress blew up the side of the Jedi cargo ship, barely waiting for the atmospheric bridge to be drawn between their vessels before jumping inside.  
  
« Have fun with the itty-bitty Jedi, » smirked the Sith Lady, disappearing towards the engine room.  
  
Rex fought his body the whole way. He deliberately made sound, even if it was as simple as audible footsteps, to try to warn the younglings.  
It nearly cost him his life, as a bright blue blade almost cut him in half the moment he entered the room before the hold. His body moved on his own, a cortosis vambrace parrying at the last moment and the lightsaber shorted out.  
Rex looked up, his face hidden behind the impersonal mask, and stared into the bloodthirsty smile of his General.  


* * *

  
Cody had his hand on his blaster but could not do a blasted thing as General Vos and his brother fought. They were going too fast, too quickly, their lightsabers whirling at mind-blowing speeds.  
And was that not a disturbing sight, to watch a clone, Rex's body, fight with this Force-user specific weapon ? There were errors, missteps, as Rex's body had not the right muscle memory to pull off some of the moves Aaraysheb was obviously trying, but he was skilled enough that it was not sufficient to open flaws in his guard.  
  
It was a good thing, because General Vos was fighting like a madman. If Aaraysheb left an opening, the Jedi would probably kill him.  
  
« Let me through ! » screamed his brother, hitting the Jedi's saber with strength, locking their blades for a moment. « You're going to ruin _everything_! »  
« Good, » Vos snarled.  
  
They broke their standstill but, instead of jumping away from each other, only the Jedi backed up. Aaraysheb went forward, chasing him, opening his arm wide, pushing Quinlan's away in the same movement, putting their lightsabers blades out of the way and hitting him in the face with the handle.  
  
The Jedi crumpled to the floor.  


* * *

  
The world was made of sand, heat, sweat and blood.  
  
« Please, fight against it, Obi-Wan. You are strong, stronger than this. »  
  
Quinlan's Master was standing in front of him, holding out his hand, his green lightsaber lit at his side.  
  
« I can't ! Go away ! Warn the Council, tell my Master ! » cried Quinlan, with a lighter voice than his own, waving a hand smaller than he was used to.  
  
Tholme shook his head.  
  
« I'm not leaving without you, how could I look Qui-Gon in the eyes if... »  
  
The Jedi Master did not finish his phrase, as Quinlan buried a bright red blade inside his gut, tears blurring his vision, but not enough to miss the shocked expression on his Master's dying face.

« NO !!! »  


* * *

  
« NO !! » shouted Quinlan, his mind reeling from what his psychometry showed him.  
« General Vos ? » asked Jinn's Commander. « Are you alright ? »  
« Where did he go ? Where is he ?? » screamed the Jedi, looking wildly around him. « Where is that kriffin' bastard ? »  
« He left. General, you... »  
  
Quinlan Vos did not listen to the clone, shoving him aside and getting up, running after his Master's assassin.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan was running as fast as he could, using the Force to enhance his speed, not caring anymore about the consequences of doing so in this body.  
  
He was going to be late, he was going to be too late, he was going to be too _kriffing_ late, and it would all be Quinlan-fucking-Vos' fault.  
If his supposedly perfect plan got his mate killed, he would bury that thrice-cursed-lightsaber inside that damn Kiffar _throat_.  


* * *

  
Rex had not been expecting to fight for his life, but he was, and he was not sure he would escape alive. His General, his Commander and Cody's General, that was maybe a fair match against an Assassin in full possession of his skills, but he was not a Sith-trained killer, he was not used to this way to fight, with razor-edged daggers in his hands and cortosis shields on his forearms.  
Even with the words of power controlling his movements, something was missing, Force-sensibility, maybe.  
Moreover, he did not _want_ to hurt his Jedi ! He had almost died to save his damn General's hide, it was not to skewer him three months later.  
  
He saw the deadly blow seconds before it struck. He raised his arm, too late, even with the Assassin's reflexes and commanded moves, and closed his eyes.  
  
The Force exploded into the room, projecting three Jedi against the walls. Rex startled then stared as _his own body_ ran towards him. It was his face, his armor, his body, though it was _not_ his lightsaber in his own hand.  
He was not sure his face had ever had such an expression of despair on it either.  
  
Rex's body barked harsh words, disturbingly close to those Dooku loved to use, and the world shivered.  
  
Around his throat and face, the metal trapping hims _ripped_ and both gorget and mask fell to the floor. Suddenly, he was the master of his body, of his thoughts, of his movements, his breathing, everything, and the relief was so strong that all his muscles slackened and he fell to the floor.  
He was caught by strong, familiar arms, cuddled against his own damn armor.  
  
« I made it. » were the first words Rex heard, whispered in relieved disbelief. « I almost did not, gods, I'm so sorry... »  
  
Rex did not care about the excuses, the story behind them, the new scar on his temple, he could only stare at his own face and marvel at the fact that his miit'jorir was here, behind his eyes.  
  
« What kind of language was that ? » he asked, because he could not think of anything else, and his mate made a sound between a sob and a laugh, and then was kissing him.  
It was hard, it was desperate.  
It was wonderful.  
  
The world tilted, spun, whirled and Rex was back inside his own body, staring at the sprawled form of an exhausted redhead, still sobbing, still muttering apologies.  
Rex just tightened his hold around his shoulders, pressing his mouth against his miit'jorir brow.  
  
It was not over, he knew, but for now, they were free.  


* * *

  
It's a broken whisper of ''Obi-Wan'', sounding loud in the mostly silent room, that cut short that brief moment of respite.  
Qui-Gon was staring at the redhead like... well, like he had seen a ghost.  
  
« You're dead, » he said, too stunned to find another thing to say. « You died. »  
« Wouldn't that be convenient, » sighed the other, sitting up with a groan.  
  
Rex frowned, looking from his miit'jorir to Cody's General. They knew each other ?  
  
Qui-Gon flinched.  
  
« How... »  
« Well, isn't this cute, » drawled an amused voice. « Figures, you put a whole bunch of Jedi in the same room, and you get cuddles and emotions. Color me soooo surprised. »  
  
Asajj Ventress was standing at the entrance of the room, smirking at them, lightsabers ignited in her hands.  
Both Rex and his miit'jorir tensed at the same time.  
Rex couldn't believe he had forgotten the crazy Sith was here. He wordlessly protested when the body in his arms struggled to get up, but helped him rise to his feet. They would not be in a position of weakness in front of Ventress, that would just be stupid.  
  
Rex felt energized, after leaving a body in constant pain and exhausted by his fight against the words of command, but he knew it was probably the precise opposite for his soulmate.  
  
« Asajj, » Rex's miit'jorir said, taking a fighting stance.  
  
It was pretty much convincing, however, Rex could feel the man was leaning on him, and his muscles were twitching and shaking. Where that damned collar once rested, the skin was bare and marred with scars. There were also small pinpricks of blood, where the small needles on the inside of the gorget had been piercing his skin, either for purely painful purposes, injecting drugs, or both.  
  
« Dog, » answered the Sith with a bright smile, obviously delighted in the scowl he sent her.  
« I'm actually very glad Dooku sent you along, » slowly smiled the former Assassin, straightening his back.  
« Oh ? And why is that ? Introduce me to the boyfriend ? » she mocked, placing a foot forward.  
  
Rex had the distinctive impression of two snakes coiling up, ready to attack.  
  
« Because, today, I can attack, » snarled his miit'jorir, and launched himself at the Sith, the lightsaber at Rex's hip flying into the man's hand he then swiped towards her neck.  
  
You would never know, with the speed and strength he was using, that he was utterly exhausted. Rex, however, knew, and got his blaster out. Like with so many lightsaber fights, he could not actually fire, not without risking a hit on the wrong person, but it made him felt better.  
There were people that could _do_ something, though, and the clone snarled at them.  
  
« Are you going to just stand there uselessly ? » he barked, waving his arms at the two fighters.  
  
General Jinn was using the Force to throw that cursed gorget far from them, excellent idea, and both his General and his Commander jumped into the fray.  
It became complicated for Ventress, after that, fighting three opponents, then four, even though one of them was exhausted and not in sync with the others.  
  
« Oh, that is fun ! Why weren't you using a saber, if you're so skilled with it ? » provoked the Sith, twirling out of the path of one saber and pushing her own against two others.  
« Because the last time Dooku gave me one, I stabbed him with it, » snarled the redhead, swinging his arm in her weapon's path, the cortosis vambrace making the lightsaber short out.  
  
The Sith Lady jumped and slammed her foot in General Skywalker's face, pushing him in front of Commander Tano's path, and used the opportunity to turn tail and flee, General Jinn and Rex's mate hot on her tail.  
Of course Rex followed.  
  
Things could have turned pretty sour for Ventress -not that Rex minded- if she had not been a crafty bastard. She had planned her escape and, more importantly, a way to stop her pursuit.  
She jumped with a cackle over a sprawled body, dodged another that tried to swing a foot at her, and disappeared across a corner.  
General Jinn slid to his knees next to the first body with a cry of « Quinlan ! » while Rex felt his heart miss a beat at Cody's sprawled form. He stopped as well, and only his miit'jorir continued to run after Ventress.  
  
« Aren't our roles normally reversed, vod ? » tried to joke Rex, checking for injuries and relieved to see nothing seemed life-threatening.  
« You disappeared, you switched your soul with another who is a real pain in the ass, you reappear with Ventress in tow, you have no right to bitch me out about a broken leg. »  
  
Rex raised an eyebrow.  
  
« Just a broken leg ? »  
« And maybe a rib or two, » conceded the clone. « She did not fight me much, just threw me at General Vos. How is he, General ? »  
« Alive, » answered Qui-Gon Jinn with a relieved sigh. « Lightsaber burn on his flank and a nasty hit to the head. »  
« That would be the wall we hit, » muttered Cody.  
  
Rex shook his head with an amused smile.  
  
« Will you be alright ? » he checked. « My miit'jorir is running after a crazy Sith. »  
« Then run after him, idiot, » sighed Cody. « I'll survive, I'm not like a certain vod who ended up almost shot up to hell. »  
  
The clone captain got up and did just what he was told, running after his mate. He had just found him, he was pretty uneasy at the idea of leaving him out of his sight.  
He was also pretty okay with the possibility of fighting with Ventress. He had a few scores to settle, himself.  
It was not to be, as he found his mate propped up against a safety door, the massive panel having slid shut when Ventress turned the atmospheric tunnel off, to prevent depressurization from the hole in the hull. He seemed unhurt, except for a split lip but Rex checked anyway.  
  
« You alright ? » he asked, kneeling next to him.  
« I took a fist in the face and was almost spaced, but almost does not count, » answered his miit'jorir, slumping against him.  
  
Clones were quite tactile so it was a natural step for Rex to wrap him in his arms, letting him rest against his chest. The man sighed in contentment and Rex crossed his hands above their shared mark.  
  
« So, in what language is that written in ? » he asked, fishing for answers to confront to his own theories.  
  
It had sounded like the words of power Dooku used, and they probably shared the identical mark because it was his miit'jorir's first words to him, but said in his own body, and vice versa. Maybe the blurring was also a consequence of that.  
  
« Miit'jorir ? » he asked again, tilting his head.  
  
In his arms, the redhead had fallen asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations :  
> miit'jorir - word carrier/bearer, means soulmate  
> ut'reeya kar'ta - empty heart  
> jate'kare shukur - breaker of destiny.
> 
> Plural is marked with an -e at the end (kar'te, miit'jorire)
> 
> Merry Christmas again, folks !


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday evening, I reached 100th followers on tumblr. You have NO idea how flabbergasted and utterly overjoyed I was. So, THANKS, and have a happy happy update.
> 
> (This chapter is henceforth known as the French chapter, thanks Norcumi for the lovely beta-work despite aaaall the random french words inside)

* * *

Since it took them two hours to repair the mess Ventress had made of the engine room – they were _very lucky_ to not have been blown up – pursuit was out of the picture and they turned back to head for Coruscant.  
Rex was separated from his exhausted mate, something that took General Skywalker's skilled coaxing and Cody pointing out that his miit'jorir obviously needed medical care.  
He then spent the whole return trip getting grilled by General Jinn about...  
  
« What did you just call him ? » growled the clone, shocked about the blatant lack of respect.  
« Don't blame me, » sighed the Jedi. « It was the name Cody gifted to him, since he would not be called by yours, or give his identity away. »  
« Can you blame him ? » Rex shook his head. « That would not have gone well. »  
  
Announcing he was the Assassin hijacking a clone captain's body to mount a Jedi attack on himself. Yeah, Rex could already see the mess that would have created.   
  
« No, I cannot, » whispered Qui-Gon. « For either of his names. »  
  
Rex frowned. He had thought he had understood that much earlier, witnessing the Jedi's shock upon the revelation of the Assassin's face.  
He could ask General Jinn about more information... but would prefer for he and his miit'jorir to get to know each other without any previous bias.  
  
Instead, he changed the subject and answered the Jedi's questions about Dooku's hideout and his former Master's current plans and actions.   
He carefully stayed away from the painful details, concerning his mate's daily life. The gorget had been thrown away in a supply closet, reeking of Darkness as it was, so Rex would not call attention on it until forced to.  
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan stood straight as a pole in the middle of the Council Chamber. He was still tired, even with an almost comatose nap during the two days trip to get back to Coruscant. Not sleeping peacefully, not sleeping deeply (not sleeping at all), for several years, would do that to a body.  
He was exhausted but hid all of it behind a cold facade, conscious it was not really helping his case, but unwilling to show weakness.  
Also, he did not care. Let them think what they would.  
  
The former Jedi stared as a vein was pulsing on Mace Windu's head. Strange how some thing never changed.  
  
« Your story, now, the Council will hear, » Master Yoda stated.   
  
The Jedi Council, almost a full one. The Grandmaster, of course, with Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon's Kel Dor friend, Plo Koon, and a hologram of a Zabrak he could not find the name of. The Cerean master, he had never met and never asked the name of, and he only knew the name of the Togrutan woman who was also here by projection was something starting with Shen. Shaal, maybe. He had stared a little longer at the Tholothian Master sitting two seats left of Mace, thinking he was seeing a ghost.   
Judging by the dark look she sent him, she knew precisely who she was reminding him of.  
Obi-Wan had been standing there just a few days ago, but in another body. Wasn't it ironic that they had stared at a body-snatching thief with less hostility than what they now had for one who had once been one of them ?  
  
« What do you want me to say, Yoda ? »  
  
The Councilors bristled at his lack of formality. Well, tough. He was not calling anyone 'master' unless they did something to deserve it.   
  
« You died on Tatooine. I felt our bond snap and your presence fade from the Force. »  
  
Qui-Gon's voice was barely more than a whisper, as he stared at Obi-Wan, still stunned and deeply unbalanced by his presence.  
  
« I did, » Obi-Wan confirmed. « When I killed Maul, the Zabrak, his lightsaber pierced me through the chest. I almost stayed dead, too, but I was just a little too stubborn. »  
  
The tall Jedi flinched.  
  
« I could have found you. If we had returned earlier, I... »  
« You could have, » Obi-Wan nodded, and the flash of pain across his former Master's face satisfied an old resentment inside his chest. He knew it was probably unfair, but he had spent too many days wishing for his Master to come for him, only to be deceived each time, to forgive easily. « Instead, Dooku found me first. »  
  
He glossed over the hell years. He said enough to make quite clear that he had not been a willing participant, to anything, but he was not relieving every single moment of it just for their sake.  
Plo Koon waved and a perfect holographic replica of his gorget appeared in front of him, slowly rotating. The original had been taken to the Archives, under lock and key.  
Obi-Wan hid his shiver and resisted the need to take a step back.  
  
« That is what Count Dooku used on you, » stated the Kel Dor. « Sith technology and drugs to make you obedient. »  
  
True to his species, Plo Koon was not mincing his words. Obi-Wan stared at the hologram, but forced his gaze to see through it, only acknowledging the faint blue outline, not the details.  
  
« It is. The carvings were mainly responsible, though the needles inside are not only for pain. They are injecting drugs as well, to keep me from the Force, enhance my body, and keep me alive. »  
  
Those had been very, very useful during his fight against Skywalker. The crafty Jedi had pierced his arm and his armor, and the point of his own dagger had stabbed him in the armpit, touching the artery there. Without the gorget's technology and drugs, the bloodloss would have killed him.  
  
« Fight it, could you ? » asked Yoda, a pained expression on his face, his ears low.  
« Sometimes. Rarely. Once, in the beginning, before Dooku added some carvings, I almost could. When Master Tholme found me. »  
  
The hope he had felt then, and the respect he still had for the only Jedi who tried to help him, were the only reasons he still granted him that title.  
  
Qui-Gon looked sick.  
  
« Tholme found you, » he whispered, heartbreak in his voice. « When he went undercover at the beginning of the war, to try and infiltrate the Separatist alliance. »  
« He did. He almost got me out, as well. But once we got too far, the gorget almost killed me. After that, I could not fight its control anymore. »   
  
Obi-Wan was standing so straight it was obvious to all the Masters watching, that he was feeling threatened, probably was still exhausted, and was going on by pure strength of will.  
Despite their need for answers, they would have to cut the hearing short.  
  
« You killed him, » Stass Allie said, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes.  
« I did, » confessed Obi-Wan. « And then, after almost a year of fighting it, since my last chance had just died, I Fell. »  
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan barely remembered the rest of the hearing, which had felt like his damn trial. He had confirmed the kill of dozens of Jedi. Most of them, he had not known by name, and the Council had been... considerate enough to show him the faces of those he had killed unwillingly.  
Some of them, he knew, and they were the worst to think about.   
Some of them, _they_ knew, personally, and he was sure Stass Allie, for one, would never forgive him for Adi Gallia's death.  
  
He felt tired, dried out, and had not any desire to go see a Healer, as he was supposed to. He was staring at his reflection in the fresher, after splashing water on his face and chest, the Jedi tunics loaned to him thrown away.  
He was not a Jedi.  
In the mirror, he could see his whole torso, and the sight was unnerving. Two tan lines marked the place where the gorget had been, the skin there white and hairless, the result of a decade without sun. For the first time in years, he could see his whole soulmark, above the scarred mess left by Maul's killing blow and Dooku's little torture games.  
  
Soon, he was gripping at his neck and shoulders, having to make sure the damn thing was gone, never to return, but at the same time, deeply unsettled by its absence.   
He did not realize he had crumbled to the floor until two strong arms circled his shoulders, pulling him to a firm chest.  
Normally, he would have attacked, striking down the fool stupid enough to sneak up on him.  
  
He melted in his soulmate's hold.  
  


* * *

  
Rex crossed his hands above his miit'jorir's mark and tightened his grip, putting weight around the redhead's upper torso.  
He seemed he had guessed right, for the panicked breathing of his mate slowly settled down.  
After only two weeks, and not even in the right body, the absence of that stupid damn heavy gorget was as freeing as it was strange. What must that feel like, for one who had been wearing it for so long ? It would take the man time to adjust.  
In the meanwhile, Rex was quite happy to cuddle the man close.  
  
« I'm curious, » he said, and felt his mate tense for a moment. « With practice, how long did it take you to put that thrice-cursed shirt on ? »  
  
His miit'jorir froze and then, all his muscles lost their stress as he began to laugh. The sound was a tad too hysterical to Rex's ears, but it was still a wonderful one.  
  
« Ten minutes, » came the amused answer.   
« Kriffin how ? It took me at least that time to find the first wrap, » muttered the clone. « I'm warning you, miit'jorir, I'm burning the damn thing. It would look stupid anyway, without that ugly necklace to hide the fact that it does not have anything to cover you from chin to chest. »  
  
With a strangled voice repeating 'necklace' and a choked laugh, Rex's mate lost it and turned slightly, burying his face against Rex's neck, crying his eyes out.  
Only half of those tears were from laughter.  
  


* * *

  
When Obi-Wan's breathing finally slowed down, they had relocated, though he didn't remember the actual movement.   
They were seated on the small couch in the equally small living room, Captain Rex's back to one of the armrests and Obi-Wan's to the clone's chest, his arms still around his shoulders, stroking the soulmark.  
  
« Are you back with me, miit'jorir ? » checked the clone, once Obi-Wan's breathing was back to normal.  
« Sorry, » the former Jedi apologized.  
  
Rex sighed.  
  
« You keep repeating that, » he said. « I do not blame you. I literally walked in your shoes, I know what hell you lived in. You took the only chance you had to escape. »  
  
Obi-Wan could clearly hear in his soulmate's voice that he would not be easily convinced to put the blame where it belonged.   
  
« You do not know the half of it, » he whispered, his eyes downcast.   
« Then explain it to me, miit'jorir. »  
« It's a bit long, » Obi-wan protested but he felt the clone's shrug against this back and started his tale. « I wore that gorget for a little over twelve years. Half of that time, I spent on Tatooine, but in the last five years, we were on Serenno. »  
  
Rex slowly nodded. Twelve years, that meant he had been one year old when the gorget went on, and he had begun to dream about heat and sand and pain at that time, as far as he could tell. And Tatooine was a desert-world, so it fit.  
  
« Dooku collects Sith artifacts, books, everything he can put his hands on. He studies them, though he does not believe the more... mystic stuff. That was the only reason I was able to read some of those books, because he thought they were full of children's stories, not facts, » Obi-Wan shook his head. « He was wrong. It was quite a shock to see the letters forming my soulmark, our soulmark, in a Sith book. I learned it, both the alphabet and that twisted language. »  
  
He put his fingers over his soulmark, twisting them with Rex's.  
  
« The words were not always blurred, and even though the cortosis hid most of it from view, I remembered quite well what it looked like. Once I translated it, I thought it meant that a Sith would free me. » He inhaled. « And then, we met on the battlefield. »  
  
Rex frowned.  
  
« We never met face to face, » he denied, sure of himself. « The closest I ever came to you was the time I fired at you from an airship when you almost killed my General. »  
« I remember, » Obi-Wan said softly. « But we crossed paths before, though you were quite busy suffocating on your own blood at the time. »  
  
That triggered a memory easily.  
  
« Jaguada, » Rex said. « Jesse said you stopped next to me. »  
« I did, » nodded Obi-Wan. « I would have finished the job, too, but amidst the blood and the burned clothes, I saw a very familiar, blurred word. I managed to go on, to convince the compulsions put on me that you were as good as dead. After that, I searched for a way to say the words that would free me myself, even though I could not say them with my own mouth. I started to pay attention to the dreams, as well. »  
« I take it they are not normal. »  
  
Obi-Wan sighed. Talk about an understatement.  
  
« No, they aren't, » he answered, rubbing his hand against his face. « The spell I found to switch our souls should not have worked. It is normally used between soulmates that have met and known each other for years. But we spied on each other's life through dreams for a very long time. I tried to show you some things as a test. »  
« And I got your warning about Olanet, » At last, Rex had an answer for the strange new dreams, and how he had known for the explosives in the viewing room. « You saved thousands of my vode, and my General. Thank you, miit'jorir. »  
« I'm trying to apologize, stop thanking me, » muttered the redhead. « It's not a pretty reason, a romantic stupidity about soulmates. I stole your life. »  
  
Rex frowned. The man was not talking about the switch, he was sure of it.  
  
« We're linked, » Rex slowly repeated. « You said so in the mirror. »   
« I died when I was nineteen, on Tatooine. A Sith's lightsaber scratched my heart. It stopped and I should have passed on, but instead... I was still connected to one thing, to you, through our soulbond. I drew on your life, used your very life-force to supply mine with. I probably killed a few years off your life expectancy as well. »  
  
There, Obi-Way said it, and now, he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. He was half-expecting a Discord, to be honest. He violated every natural law and boundaries between soulmates, killed him a little, put him through his personal hell, he...  
A strong hand against his neck stopped him in his tracks.  
  
« I am glad, » his mate said softly. « I am _so_ glad you did, miit'jorir. To live all my life with an ut'reeyah kar'ta on my chest, never to meet you, would have been a torture. Could you have asked, I would have agreed without hesitation. »  
  
Obi-Wan stared at the wall, stunned. He... had not been expecting that. Agreement, forgiveness, _absolution_.   
A part of him was still waiting for due punishment, but the rest relished in the weight lifted from his shoulders and could only whisper :  
  
« Can I call you that, as well ? Miit'jorir ? »  
  
Of course his Mando'a accent was perfect. Rex's stomach was doing stupid flip-floppy things hearing the Ashnar Urcir's traditional words in his mate's mouth.  
  
« Of course. You should also tell me you name. I'm Rex, but I still have not heard yours. »  
« The... »  
« Your _name_ , miit'jorir. Not the one your torturers branded you with. Not even the one you once had, if you wish for another. If you saw enough of our culture through my dreams to understand what a miit'jorir is, you know how much names mean to us, » said Rex strongly, pressing his brow to the back of his mate's head. « So. What is your name ? »  
  
The answer came in a rush of air, like freedom after a long imprisonment, as the man went limp in his soulmate's hold.  
  
« Obi-Wan. »  
  


* * *

  
Anakin kneeled next to his meditating Master, closing his eyes. He stayed quiet for a grand total of twelve seconds.  
  
« So, Obi-Wan is alive. »  
« I'm trying to meditate, Anakin, » came the irritated answer.   
  
The young Jedi Knight snorted.  
  
« Right. That's why your left hand is still twitching, your eyebrows are in a lovely V-shape and your shoulders are tense. Moreover, you have not talked to Mom since we landed, » he said in a deadpan voice.  
  
Qui-Gon winced. Usually, he always found time to discuss matters with his level-headed soulmate, especially if he was unsettled by something. He had not done so, this time, and it was a pretty obvious indication of the turmoil his emotions were in.  
  
« You know, I only saw him once, when he helped Mom and me to get on Padmé's ship, as he told us to fly low to join you, before he jumped to go help you ? » continued Anakin, like he was not ripping open an old wound in his Master's heart. « I'm afraid I have to admit, I forgot what he looked like. It was too quick, too rushed, I was exhausted after the run... However, I've always remembered his voice. It was obvious how much he was worried, how much he cared. »  
« Anakin, stop. Please, » begged Qui-Gon, turning his head to stare at his former Padawan.  
« Why ? You're beating yourself up over what happened to him. You're thinking that this is your fault, because you believed he was dead. You're forgetting that he knew what he was doing. He went to fight that Sith to help you survive, and you _did_. »  
  
Anakin was looking at him with passion burning in his blue eyes, while he lectured him as if the roles were reversed.  
  
« I can't speak for him, but if he loved you as much as I do, he would have come even if he knew he was going to die. You're belittling what he sacrificed, Master. »  
  
Qui-Gon was speechless. When had his former Padawan grown so much ? Where was the unthinking bullhead rushing into action without previous reflection ?  
  
« Maybe you're right. I should talk to your mother, » he finally managed to say.  
« She's going to whoop your ass for not doing so in the first place, » gleefully answered the young man, grinning from ear to ear as the Jedi Master got up to leave. « Tell her I said hi ! »  
  
Anakin waited for Qui-Gon to leave before his smile slipped off his lips, and he buried his face in his hands.   
Despite what he had said, he had quite the unforgettable memories about Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even if he really had forgotten his face, Qui-Gon's former Padawan had always been a massive presence in his early years.   
His ghost floated for a long time in the quarters he shared with his Master, until they moved out at Shmi's insistence, and even if the Jedi had never made any kind of comparison between them, Anakin had felt for a long time Obi-Wan was someone he had to match, or even surpass.   
Letters with Padmé, introspective discussions with his mother and heartfelt ones with his Master had finally ridden him of the destructive notion when he had been thirteen, but at that point, Obi-Wan Kenobi was more a myth than a person to him. Sith-Killer, Good Jedi, Genius who would have been Knighted before twenty years old...  
  
He became a sort of model, a childhood hero, a healthier version of what he represented before.   
To learn that someone he had quietly admired for most of his teenage years had been tortured, made to suffer the same hellish existence Anakin had escaped, even worse since it was at a Sith's hands...   
Well, it was a good thing Qui-Gon had been so disturbed by his own turmoil, or Anakin would not have escaped several hours of meditation.  
  
He was no hypocrite and would have gladly followed his own advice, and gone to Padmé to talk about it, but she was working on an urgent matter at the Senate, as she often was these days.   
He would have to settle for second best and go work on a big piece of machinery.   
  


* * *

  
« I should have stolen Hardcase's new souped-up blaster, » muttered Jesse. « This would go way quicker if she could fire at those idiots. »  
« Stop mooning over our General's wife, » grumbled Kix.   
  
The two clones had agreed to follow Senator Amidala to the Senate. She had lost the kid gloves and now wanted to metaphorically bash the Senators in the head with the proof that clones were sentients, human beings, and one of her means was to be accompanied by bonded clones.   
Jesse would quietly suggest to General Skywalker to send Tup on a permanent assignment to her, so he could stay permanently with Okeeer, his soulmate.  
The clone's eyes quickly found the pod for Oeheh'ii's Senators (Tup had explained that the planet's name had been quite mutilated, since the language was supposed to be sung or whistled, but that was the best approximation the Senate had managed). Okeeer Ri Si-Lae stood there, listening to Padmé's speech with attention.  
An Ohiian was tall and slim, with skin-tones going from a sandy color to a deep midnight black. Tup's miit'jorir was in the middle of the spectrum, with a tan color, while the second one was completely black. Jesse could not guess if they were male or female. To think of it, he wasn't even sure the beings were gendered like that. Tup whistled instead of using he or she when he talked about his miit'jorir.  
Not helpful. Jesse could _not_ whistle to save his life.  
  
When hearing his vod's description, Jesse had thought the Ohiians looked like Kaminoans, but the only trait they shared was their heights. Feather-like hair, slitted eyes and wide ears to listen to sounds emitted not by mouths -they had none- but from their long, thick necks, where the translator devices rested.  
They also lacked the ethereal natures the clones' makers had. Fitting, for a species that could kill you with a high-pitched note.  
Tup's mate could be terrifying.   
However, Jesse knew his was too.  
  
« Stop scowling. It'll be over in an hour, max, » he whispered to Kix. « Then you'll be able to scream at Rex for being an idiot and check on him. »  
« I do not scream, » hissed the medic. « I put the fear of the sky into each and everyone of you. »  
  
Jesse snickered, turning his head so the holorecorders filming the Senator would not pick up on it. Helmets were useful but they weren't wearing them right now, another way to humanize them to the galaxy's eyes.  
  


* * *

  
Anakin did not expect to find his Padawan in the hangar bay, sitting on the wreck of a ship, feet kicking and frowning at something on a datapad.  
  
« Stalking me, Snips ? »  
  
The Togruta startled and the datapad disappeared in a pocket as she turned her head towards him.  
  
« It's not stalking, I was here first, » she countered, jumping off the ship's wing. « You're finally going to take a look at her ? »  
« Yes, I am, » smiled the Knight, patting the charred hull. « I've been a bit busy, before. »  
  
They worked mostly in silence for a good twenty minutes, Ahsoka observing and passing her Master hydrospanners and the like, making one or two suggestions and asking a few questions here and there.  
  
« Sooooo... is he really Kenobi ? Master Qui-Gon's former Padawan ? » she finally wondered, like the curiosity radiating form her since the beginning had not warned Anakin the question was coming.

It was almost a repetition of his own earlier attitude, except he hadn't been as patient as Ahsoka was.  
« I see the Temple's grapevine is as effective as ever. Let's hear it, then, what did you pick up ? »  
  
The young Togruta female shrugged, sheepish.  
  
« Not much, it's still recent. Just that he was supposed to be dead, and an Initiate let it slip that he was the Assassin. He tried to make up for it by saying that he was forced, but, well... »  
  
Anakin scowled. He knew that secrets were very hard to keep in the Temple, but that was one he would have preferred to stay buried a little longer.   
  
« And what about you ? » he then asked. « I know you have your own griefs about the Assassin. »  
  
Better to get those out of the way. The former Jedi would not be easily accepted, Anakin could already see it. He would prefer that the few allies he would have were not hiding festering wounds.  
  
« Well... Barriss _was_ my best friend, » she muttered, eyes downcast. « He killed her, and Master Luminara is still heartbroken, and Aayla is still shocked after that time on Caramm V. He almost killed her, and me, and _you_... »  
  
She looked up, passion in her eyes.  
  
« I know we don't hate, Skyguy, but I'm still angry ! And confused, because he fought Ventress with us, and he is Rex's soulmate, and I can't see _Rex_ hurting you or me, and he was supposed to be a Jedi, and a good one at that... How can you be so calm ? »  
« Calm ? » chuckled Anakin, shaking his head. « Snips, I'm far from calm. I maybe am the calmest one out of you and Qui-Gon, but I'm not calm. Dooku kidnapped a Jedi, someone who should have been at least a strong presence in my life, probably a friend, and collared him like a dog, took away his freedom and, more importantly, his free will. That awful cortosis collar, it controlled him. »  
  
Ahsoka winced. If there was one sensitive subject for her Master, it was slavery. She almost never used the proper term between a Jedi Knight and his student for that exact same reason. It was reserved for public appearances and dealing with the Council.   
To be honest, it was something she had picked up on from him, especially since Zygerria. The idea of being forced to do something against her will, against her beliefs, made her skin crawl.   
  
« A few years ago, I would not have been able to forgive him, even with that, » Anakin admitted, to show Ahsoka she should not feel guilty if she couldn't see past Dooku's actions made through Obi-Wan. « Understand, yes, because I've been in his place. Forgive, probably not. »  
« A few years ago, you did not have an awesome Padawan to make you grow up, » she teased, sticking her tongue at him.   
  
He swiped at her and she dodged with a laugh.   
After that, the atmosphere was lighter, Ashoka thinking on the matter while they were working on the ship.   
Anakin could feel her working slowly through her hold-ups and felt stupidly proud. She was growing _fast_ and he could already see the brilliant Knight she would one day be.  
He needed to thank his Master, if the man had been the same kind of nervous wreck Anakin currently was while guiding her along her path.   
  
« I'll try, » she finally declared, once the ship's engine looked like a proper one, and not a charred piece of junk. Anakin could not remember _how_ he had made such a mess of the poor thing. « There'll be ghosts haunting me for a while, but I'll do my best not to see the Assassin, but Obi-Wan instead. Rex's soulmate. »  
  
She smirked.  
  
« That... could actually be easier than I thought, » she added, retrieving her datapad.  
  
The picture she had been frowning at earlier now made her giggle. Yes, easier.  
  
« Oh ? » Anakin raised a brow, holding out his hand as she floated the device to him. « You're still snooping through the Temple's security cams. »  
« I have no idea what you're talking about. It's not like I learned anything like that with you. »  
  
Anakin snorted, still looking at the holo. On it, Rex and Obi-Wan were tangled up on a small couch barely long or wide enough to hold them, sound asleep. The position _could not_ be comfortable, Rex's head was propped against the armrest, his neck bent, but his spine was twisted so his legs could twine with his soulmate's. One of Obi-Wan's was dangling over the other armrest, and he was also completely twisted, lying on his side on the clone's chest, his face buried in the other's neck.  
They were completely mixed up with each other and Anakin could not decide to whom belonged one of the hands he could see.   
That _would_ result in some seriously sore limbs and muscles cramps when they woke.   
  
He smirked.  
  
« Well, someone is going to be quite _stiff_ in the morning, » he declared with his crassest voice.  
« EEEEEEEW, SKYGUY, THAT'S DISGUSTING !! »  
  


* * *

  
Jesse watched with a smirk as Rex's miit'jorir argued with Kix, who argued right back. A full tenday of rest had done wonders for the man's health but the medic, supported by the Jedi Healer assigned to Obi-Wan, was clearly not satisfied with the results.  
  
« … the last ten years ! »  
« That is _NOT_ an excuse, » snarled Jesse's mate, pointing a finger under the man's nose. « You're still tired from withdrawal from half a dozen of drugs, you're half running on fumes. My Marshall Commander is leaving in two days and is strangely invested in your health, so you stay in that bed. »  
« There are urgent things to be done, » Obi-Wan argued.   
« And since they waited for two weeks, they can wait for two more days, » bit back Kix.   
  
Rex stood next to Jesse, arms crossed, his eyes sparkling. Obi-Wan could have thrown his brother across the room and walked off, Kix could have sedated his miit'jorir and called it a day. Instead, they were arguing, like any (foolish) member of the 501st with their medic.   
It was very obvious that his mate had picked up a lot of a clone's mannerism through their shared dreams. No wonder Cody had given the man his trust.  
Obi-Wan acted like a vod when surrounded by clones. A tired, broken, skittish one, but they had a fair lot of those in the Army.   
  
High General Jinn was theoretically in command of the Third Systems Army, including eight corps like the 7th Sky Cody was leading.  
In practice, the Jedi had picked up the slack for two Jedi Councilors, so two whole other Systems Armies, placing him at the head of almost a million of vode.  
That was how the Olanet op could have been arranged so quickly. It also meant that Cody was so far above his supposed rank he could technically give orders to Jedi.   
The clone was used to dealing with all kind of vode, and had clearly brought Rex's miit'jorir into the fold.  
Good.  
Though the nicknamed Cody gave Obi-Wan still made Rex cringe.   
  
« Fine, » finally relented his mate. « Two days. »  
  
Jesse snorted, shifting next to Rex. As if there was any doubt his miit'jorir would win the argument.  
Kix was kriffing terrifying, Assassin or no Assassin.  
  


* * *

  
Qui-Gon lurked next to the Halls of Healing, as he had done for the previous week. Talking with Shmi had helped him soothe his emotions, but now, he knew he had to talk with his former Padawan.  
Actually doing it was not that easy.   
  
However, talks with the Council, paperwork and meditation could only be convenient excuses for a time. Since Anakin was quite firmly on the 'talk to him' ship, and was doing a fine job of convincing Ahsoka as well, they had fled earlier with the paperwork he was supposed to fill. He had nothing more to say to Mace or Master Yoda right now, he was actually sick of meditating...  
His last chance had been the hope that Cody would block his path until Obi-Wan left the Halls but, since they were supposed to leave in two days, that would have postponed the much-needed talk for several weeks, maybe months.  
So, of course, his Commander stepped away when Qui-Gon walked to the Healers' lair. He was wearing his helmet, something clones were allowed, even encouraged, not to do in a place where they were considered as beings, instead of soldiers only, and Qui-Gon was pretty sure it was to hide a smirk.  
Cody could be quite the crafty bastard.  
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan sighed as he put down a datapad, deleting what he had just sent. The pad was the one he had acquired while he was in his mate's body. No one apart from the intended receiver would read that message.  
To be honest, he was quite sick of sleeping. He knew he was still tired, but since he had never rested that much in the last twelve years, he was starting to get antsy.  
Without the muscle cramps born from withdrawal, he would never have given up to Kix's demands. He was however... grateful for the opportunity to plan and wait, shielded for now from the Jedi living in the Temple.   
  
He had been a nightmarish tale for a lot of them, killed a number of their friends, heroes, masters or padawans. He knew the large majority would not welcome him with open arms.  
To be quite honest, Obi-Wan did not care. He did not know them. He would do what he had to, save them from Darkness as a nice bonus to make his miit'jorir safe, and then, he would never deal with them again.  
The life of a Jedi was not his anymore.  
The hardest part would be with the Jedi he _did_ know. Used to.   
Quinlan Vos was a good example of how that kind of meeting could go : he was not keen on a repeat performance. Especially since he was sure the Kiffar Jedi was not done with him.  
  
Another sore point walked into the infirmary at that moment, and Obi-Wan tensed up.

 

* * *

  
Qui-Gon could feel the unease coming off Obi-Wan in waves. That was not a good omen, but he would not turn back now.   
Despite everything else, it was a wonderful thing to see the young man, alive. Still a boggling thought, full of terrifying implications, but wonderful.  
  
In the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Rex leave the room, and the subsequent additional tension falling on his former Padawan's shoulders as soon as they were alone.  
  
« He could stay, if you'd prefer, » offered the Jedi, but the redhead shook his head.

« He would have, but I deliberately did not ask him. He already knows most of what we're going to talk about, but the actual words ? Those only belong to us. »  
  
Qui-Gon sat at the end of the bed. It was made but nevertheless seemed messy, covered with pads and flimsi, with Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged where the pillow was supposed to be.  
That was bringing back bittersweet memories. Force, his Padawan had not been a fan of cleaning up after himself.  
  
« You seem quite calmer than the last time we talked, » he stated.  
« The first time, I made a derogatory quip on my own death while stressed out of my wits, and the second, I was facing a hostile Jedi Council. It's not very hard, though ten days of rest _were_ very helpful as well. » There was a small smirk floating on the young man lips and Qui-Gon was certain that the medics charged with his care had not been given the same judgement on the downtime they imposed.   
« And before that, you left the room every time we would have been alone, » he added, to confirm Quinlan's words.

« That I did, » acknowledged the redhead.  
  
Obi-Wan sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The vibrant dark red color of his youth was now more of a light copper, the red interspersed with blond strands. On his temples, some of those were so light they were almost white.   
He was barely over thirty, thirty-two if Qui-Gon remembered correctly.   
  
« I... am still coming to terms with my hate, » Obi-Wan confessed, and Qui-Gon cringed.   
  
His former student had Fallen. He was keeping a tight lid on the Dark Side but the taint remained, a smear on the man's soul. It was a testament to Obi-Wan's self-control, and probably of long hours of meditation and longer talks with his soulmate, that it was all but imperceptible.   
  
« Objectively, I know that you probably collapsed when our bond broke, and by the time you came back, I was not there anymore. I _know_ that. Unfortunately, it was something Dooku often used to torture me. How you had betrayed me, exchanged me for the shiny new padawan, the great Chosen One replacing the almost-failure I was. »  
« You were not... » began Qui-Gon, incensed.  
« I KNOW ! » The air pulsed for a second before Obi-Wan reined his temper in. « Still, you cannot erase ten years of brainwashing like that. I resisted for a full year before my stubbornness cost Master Tholme his life. After that, I was far too resentful, too far gone, to remember that you actually loved me. That I was there because I loved you as well, and because it would have killed me to see you die. »  
  
It was still unease that Qui-Gon could feel from Obi-Wan, but mixed-up with a whole lot of ambiguous emotions. Guilt, bitterness, regret, relief.  
Most of those, Qui-Gon was feeling as well, and he slid his hand on the mattress, leaving it, palm upwards in an open invitation, between them.  
  
« It almost killed me, » Qui-Gon answered. « You were a wonderful student and I did love you. I still do. Despite everything that you had to endure and do against your will, it means that you lived, and for that, I am deeply grateful. »  
« That was not... » Obi-Wan shook his head, his eyes staring at his former Master's hand, almost transfixed by it. « I did not live. »  
« Perhaps not. You survived, and that is even more difficult. It's a show of strength worthy of praise, not scorn. »  
« You're still a damn optimistic fool, » muttered the redhead.  
  
Moving seemed to take him a lot of strength, like he was not sure he could do it, but once he put his hand in Qui-Gon's, he gripped it with enough force to make bones creak.  
Not that Qui-Gon was any better.  
  


* * *

  
Padmé sighed blissfully as her soulmate pressed his thumbs on her feet's soles, kneading the flesh with practiced hands and using the Force to sooth the sore limbs.  
High heels were a wonderful weapon for women, but they could be very painful when worn for too long. And that last week at the Senate _had_ been far too long. Productive, but too long.  
She was lying on the couch, her feet in Anakin's lap, the reversed version of what they had been doing just after Olanet and his stay in the Halls of Healing.   
They often found themselves resting on the couch when they were alone, for it was very comfortable.  
It was actually a gift from Bail, and for that alone, Anakin could tolerate the man. Especially since he had not found a single listening device inside, which could not be said of most gifts sent to his wife.  
  
« Did you know that the Chancellor commed me, today ? » he asked his wife.  
« Hmm ? »  
« I had not heard from him for quite some time, so it was a bit strange. Sure, that's mostly my fault, but still. He congratulated me about your success today, since doing so himself would be showing too much favor, » Anakin smiled at Padmé who had cranked one eye open. « Yeah, sorry, I know we said no work, but that's not work, that's congratulations. You did an awesome job, I'm sure actual leave for every clone, not only those bonded, will be a thing by the middle of next year. »  
« Six to seven months for such a bill to be voted on ? » smiled Padmé. « Force, I still wish I had that kind of optimism. »  
« It's not optimism, » protested Anakin. « I know how skilled you are. Last time, it took you a bit less than eight months. This time, you'll do it quicker. »  
  
The senator beamed at him. She could mention that, the previous time, Okeeer and Tup's meeting in front of the whole Senate significantly helped her bid, but she was relishing in Ani's faith in her. She sometimes missed that almost naive view on politics she once had. When had she started to see the Senate as a rotten, unsalvageable place instead of something she could and would change for the better ?  
She became a part of the system, while thinking she was fighting against it, and that's how someone pulled a veil over her eyes.  
Without Aaraysheb's intervention, she would still be blind. It had angered her but she had been determined not to be anyone's puppet, not the Senate and not the clone's, and she had investigated.  
Now, she was painfully aware how much of the support she had gained was a way to distract her.   
  
Too bad for them. She was using that to its full extent, to bring change forward way faster, with far less restraint than she would normally use. Why waste their efforts ? They would regret taking her for a fool.  
In the meanwhile, she was quietly investigating the Chancellor's entourage. Following her instincts, and Aaraysheb's veiled warning, she also looked into the former Senator of Naboo's past.  
Consequently, the fact that Palpatine had called Anakin in person was pretty unusual. She knew that, when her husband had been young and new to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple, they had been closer, but she did not think it was still the case.  
Anakin had often told her she was the only politician he trusted. There were other ways for the man to offer her quiet congratulations without going through her husband.  
  
Tickles on her foot brought her out of her musings.   
« No woooork, » sing-songed Anakin.  
« You were the one to start it, » Padmé reminded him, stabbing her toes to his chest.   
  
He resumed his massage with a soft smile, and she closed her eyes again, pushing away the dark thoughts that tried to creep up. That would wait, for now she was not Senator Amidala, she was Padmé Naberrie, at home with her husband.  
However, the relaxed mood was gone, shifted to something else.  
  
« Must you leave ? » she whispered at last, once he was more stroking her skin than massaging it, sending shivers through her.   
« Yes, love, sorry. I already came back with a flimsy excuse, to go with Master Qui-Gon. We're both supposed to head back tomorrow, » Anakin softly said, regret in his voice.   
  
Padmé stretched and then got up, sitting on his lap. She grinned at him, losing her hands in his long hair, as he circled her hips.  
  
« Then, enough talking, » she purred.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to you all, and Happy May the Fourth !  
> I'm so happy to finally be able to post a chapter, after months of nothing because IRL was a blur, with work EVERYWHERE.  
> I'm SO sorry for not answering most of your kind comments, they usually made my day as I was getting up, or I read them before sleep, so while I did not answer, I loved them all. I'll have more time from now on, hopefully, so I'll try and do better.
> 
> Thanks to the awesome Norcumi for Betaing this in half a day when I flailed at her because OMG it's going to be May the Fourth, I haven't got a thing to post, HAAALP.  
> She's awesome, go smother her in hugs and thanks.
> 
> Without further ado, have a chap !

Obi-Wan was standing next to Rex in the hangar bay. Qui-Gon, Anakin and Ahsoka were leaving, as were Cody, Kix and Jesse. Obi-Wan was stupidly glad that, for now, Rex's leg was still judged too weak, otherwise his miit'jorir would be leaving as well, returning to the war.   
  
Qui-Gon and he had already made their goodbyes. The air had mostly cleared between them, despite Qui-Gon's remaining unease and Obi-Wan's lingering resentment.    
With time... with time, maybe, they would find again the closeness they once shared.   
  
Cody clasped Rex's forearm and then Obi-Wan's. To his utter bafflement, he was still treated as a vod by the clone. That was something he had not expected, but he was treasuring the trust the clone, his brother then, was giving him.   
« Behave, Aaraysheb. » said the commander.   
It seemed that the terrible nickname would stick. He could live with that.   
« I'll do my best. »   
  
The clone shook his head, putting his helmet back on and joining the Jedi on the access ramp, where Anakin was saying something to his padawan in a low voice.   
Now, that had been an unexpected ally. Obi-Wan still held quite a lot of bitterness over his 'replacement', but it seemed he had been some sort of... childhood hero for the young man.   
While that notion made him cringe, since there obviously was a large part of idealization in that, far from the truth of things, it allowed them to talk far more easily he had thought he would be able to.   
  
Just before the hatch closed, the young Togruta at the Knight's side dashed off to them and hugged Rex.   
  
« You heal up, okay ? Appo is no fun, it's not the same without you, » she muttered to him.   
« I'll do my best, kid. Keep an eye on the General for me. »   
  
Ahsoka stepped back, nodding seriously. Anakin was far too prone to shenanigans.    
Though it was true she was often not very far behind him. But she was his Padawan, that was her place !   
With a deep breath, she turned and faced Rex's mate. 

Obi-Wan can see her unease. More, he can feel it in the Force, the way she’s uncertain around him, wary every time he moves in the silent, prowl-like walk he developed. He can almost see the numerous battlefields, the numerous deaths he brings up in her mind, the face of a young Mirialan especially.   
And yet...   
She pointed her finger at him.   
  
« And you, you take care of him. You're going around like someone kicked you in the ass because you killed their lothcat. So atone, and keep my captain intact for me. »   
  
Obi-Wan was stunned for a moment, before a soft smile stretched his lips.    
  
« I will do my best as well, Padawan Tano. »   
« Hmph. That's Ahsoka to you. »   
  
She bolted back to the ship and soon, they were airborne, leaving Coruscant.   
  
Obi-Wan allowed himself a small moment of peace, savoring Ahsoka's show of trust, leaning against his miit'jorir side. Then, he turned, tension returning to his spine as he walked to Master Windu, at the hangar's entrance.   
  
« I think we have some things to talk about. »   
« At last, » muttered the Jedi Master. « You took your time. »   
« Blame the medics, » he answered with a smirk.   
  


* * *

  
The discussion started easily. Most of the Councilors grudgingly admitted Obi-Wan had held up his side of the bargain, and that they would not have been as receptive if they had known who he was.    
They had also begun their own research on the biochips and could already tell there was something deeply wrong with it, though the code they were written with had not yet been cracked.   
  
Then, things turned sour.   
  
« What do you mean, you did not dechip them ? » snarled Obi-Wan, and his anger was obvious. Even though his eyes were still blue, not amber, the Dark Side was clearly perceptible, weighing down the whole room. Both Mace Windu and Eeth Koth were standing, lightsabers in hand, and the others were not far from imitating them, especially Stass Allie. « We came back TWELVE DAYS AGO ! »   
« Control yourself ! » ordered Windu.   
« You sent Cody, Kix and Jesse back with their chips still in ! You better believe I will scream at you how much the hell I want, and if you ignite that weapon, I will too ! »   
  
They probably would have done it if a strong Force-wave had not washed over them.   
  
« Sit  _ DOWN  _ ! »   
  
Like puppets with their strings cut, the two Councilors ended up in their seats and, even though he fought against the strong, Force-laced order, Obi-Wan ended up on his rear in the middle of the room.    
  
« Thank you, » said Yoda, his hands clasped on the gimmer stick he had slammed onto the ground. He had the worst scowl anyone had ever see him wear. « Like adults, you will act ! Obi-Wan, reign it in, could you ? Painful, it is. »   
  
The redhead stared at the old Jedi, before inhaling and forcing his anger down, though it still simmered under his skin.    
The Grandmaster nodded his thanks, while Shaak Ti, still among them by hologram, took the floor.   
  
« It would have been too obvious, » she softly said. « You obviously used the Force to heal from your own surgery in Captain Rex's body, but an operation on the head like this is no easy one, twelve days are not a sufficient time to recover from it. If the situation is as bad as you make it to be, then we can't afford to draw attention to the clones. I have begun my own investigation here, and as soon as I am sure the Kaminoans are not aware of those orders, I'll undertake the cadets’ dechipping. »   
  
Obi-Wan hid his scowl. Badly, but he tried to. If it only was a matter of Force-healing, they were in the Jedi Temple, with hundreds of Force-using healers. Hell, he could have done it himself.    
It felt too much like a blackmail attempt, a way to ensure his cooperation, as the clones he most wanted free were sent back to the front still chipped.   
  
Maybe not from the Togruta. She seemed to genuinely care for the clones under her instruction. He did not think Yoda was thinking along those line, either.   
The rest of the Council ? He would not put it past them.   
  
« And for the rest of the GAR ? » he hissed.   
« We'll start it discreetly. » said Mace. « First the injured and the ones stationed on Coruscant. Then, the rest, while trying to keep under the radar. »   
« It's too slow, » protested Obi-Wan.    
« Perhaps, but we cannot warn our potential enemy, nor empty our front lines. We only have three millions clones, give or take, five if you add in the support staff. The Separatists outnumber us ten to one, at the very least. Hundreds to one, in the worst worlds, and even the clones' efficiency cannot always compensate. If we bring them home by the legions, we risk losing the war. By then, chip or not, it would not really matter, would it ? »   
  
Obi-Wan ground his teeth. He knew there were too few soldiers in the army.    
He also knew it was further proof that the Sith Master was behind the whole war. Ten times more clones, and they would have already won, the droids were not a match for them.   
  
He was getting surer and surer about the Sith Lord's identity. Maybe it was time for another visit to the Senate building.   
  


* * *

  
When Obi-Wan exited the Council Chamber, he was still so furious that going straight to the Senate would only succeed in alerting the Sith Lord to his presence and, probably, to his plans.   
The man was probably already quite wary with his newfound liberty. Obi-Wan was not a fool, he knew Sidious was already aware of both his freedom and his location. He simply hoped the man's hubris would be sufficient to assure him that the former Assassin was not a threat.   
  
The Darksider had been very prudent around both him and Dooku. He never showed his face, talked too low to permit any kind of vocal identification. Obi-Wan had only seen the man in person a few times, mostly when he was on Tatooine, at the beginning of his hell, and one painfully memorable time a few months ago, when the Olanet's trap failed.   
That had been worth getting electrocuted via Force-lightning.    
  
His dark thoughts not helping the foul energy rolling under his skin go away, Obi-Wan began to walk towards the training salles. There would surely be one that would both be empty and far away enough he would not traumatize anyone by letting his rage flow.   
He knew what Yoda meant when he said it was painful. The Dark Side could be quite an alluring mistress but when it was brushing against you and deeply unwanted, it felt more like a searing pain than like a soft caress.   
Right now, despite his burning anger, Obi-Wan wanted nothing more to leave that taint behind him. And so, it burned.   
  
The man once known as the Assassin was not aware his furious gait had turned into a familiar deadly prowl, only seen until then on bloody battlefields. He was, however, feeling very conscious of the stares, whispers and flinches that followed him throughout the Temple. He was trying to find again his previous state of mind, when he was deeply convinced he was  _ not _ affected by what they were thinking, but he had been mostly ready for hate and resentment.   
Now that he had left gorget and mask behind, now that he wanted to  _ help _ , he was not quite prepared for fear.    
  
At least, it allowed him to find the empty place he was searching for, by making the young Initiates that had been training inside flee like the devil itself had come.    
That was a shame. He would  _ never _ hurt children, and had decided to act a bit sooner that he would normally have especially because of the planned attack to kill the younglings going to Illum. Also, he was pretty sure those young ones had not been practising sanctioned moves, unless the curriculum had greatly changed since his own childhood. Given the slowness to act and the slower way to change the Jedi Order was currently displaying, he rather doubted that.    
More the pity, then. He would have enjoyed a bit a playful, light mischievousness to soothe his anger.   
  
Back to the first plan it was.   


* * *

Since their Ashnar Urcir, Rex and his miit'jorir had not stayed apart for long. They were still getting to know each other but, in twelve days, much had been said.   
Now that they weren't on two different sides of the galaxy (and of the war), their dreams were pretty much the same, shared ones. It was a strange feeling, and something that they couldn't quite control, which led to some embarrassing mornings.    
  
It also strengthened the unusual link they shared. They could sometimes feel the other's emotions, and send some. To Obi-Wan, it was precious but nothing new, almost like a Force-bond, even if a deeper one. To Rex, it was a shiny, wonderful new experience. Mostly because he could feel how he was helping his miit'jorir heal.   
However, right now, his soulmate was  _ pissed _ . He was supposed to see the Council earlier, then join Rex for the meal, something they were supposed to try and take in the mess hall for the first time.    
The clone had the feeling that something had not gone well.    
It would be a bit difficult to find Obi-Wan to learn what. Even if he was pretty confident concerning the vague direction his mate had gone, the Jedi Temple was huge, with thousands of rooms.    
That... would take time.   
  
Sighing, he rose, resigned to carry a tray of food along for quite the walk, when a group of Jedi cadets ran into the room, wide eyes frequently checking over their shoulders.   
Well.   
His search time just went significantly down.   


* * *

Thrust, slash, parry, slash, turn, duck, slash, thrust, slash...   
The kata was not a difficult one. It was actually the second one of the Soresu form, taught early in an Initiate's life. Hell, Obi-Wan knew some mercenaries that were aware of it and were often performing chosen parts of the first few movements to practice their dodging.   
  
It was easy as breathing to go with the flow of the well-known movements, and far more soothing than his first choice of lashing out.   
It wasn't useful without a partner, anyway, mainly frustrating. For once, he almost wished for Asajj's annoying presence.   
At least, she was a decent duelist, if a sadistic one.   
  
In his hand, the lightsaber was thrumming. Behind closed eyes, Obi-Wan could still see the bright, green blade shining as he twirled it quickly in wide arcs, to parry imaginary bolts.    
He should feel guilty for owning that blade. It did not belong to him.    
However, he was pretty sure the Jedi would not present him with his own anytime soon, he had  _ no _ desire to go and retrieve one of the red blades he stashed somewhere on Geonosis and he knew Master Tholme would have cuffed him on the back of the head if he gave up his only weapon.   
Technically, he would not be weaponless. He still owned his daggers but he loved the wicked things as much as he loathed them. For now, he did not feel comfortable wielding them.   
  
He slowly upped the tempo, doubling then quadrupling the speed at which it was normally performed, feeling welcomed sweat pearling on his brow, soothing tiredness creeping in his muscles.   
He had not handled a lightsaber in almost a year, and not this freely in six. As he had told Asajj Ventress, the last time Dooku gave him one without covering him in restrictions, he stabbed the old bastard through the shoulder.   
Without that cursed gorget, he would have done far more.   
Afterwards, the only times he was given the red-bladed weapon, the Sith gave him so many interdictions he could literally not breathe without the command word to do so regularly.    
Since it destroyed completely any shred of intelligent improvisation from his puppet, any leeway which was often critical to a mission's success, well, Dooku had not often done so.   
Cortosis and razor-sharp daggers had cut down Jedi and clones just as well.   
  
Obi-Wan was working his way up to six times the usual speed when a strong hand closed against his right wrist, lowering his weapon.   
  
« I could have hurt you, » he simply said, his voice devoid of the fear of actually doing so.   
« You knew I was in the room the moment I entered, » answered Rex. « Besides, I was trained in dealing with Jedi and their weapons. »

« You were trained in dealing with Sith, » Obi-Wan corrected with a wry tilt to his mouth.    
« Same weapon. »   
  
At last, he opened his eyes, staring at his miit'jorir. He was mostly wearing his armor, the familiar weight more comfortable to the clone than clothes. The helmet was off, as always. The chestpiece and pauldrons were too, lying propped against the wall, leaving Rex in his blacks, wearing only his vambraces and the lower part of the beskar'gam.   
Nearby, on a bench, a tray of food was turning cold.   
  
« Care to show me ? » he smirked, lowering the lightsaber setting to something that would scorch and not lop a limb off.   
« You're the one with a wrist in your opponent's hand, » pointed out Rex. « Get away first. »   
  
Easily done, as Obi-Wan twisted his arm to put pressure on his mate's thumb, freeing his hand. He then attacked, slowly at first, then quicker upon seeing the clone's scowl.   
He had not lied : he knew how to fight a lightsaber-wielder. While Obi-Wan was using wide strikes, dangerous thrusts and twirling swipes, his soulmate ducked and dodged with talent, and slapped open-handed strikes to the former Jedi's right arm or wrist, pushing the weapon away, before he tried to land closed-fisted blows.    
Once they were both assured they would not harm the other, they upped their speed as well, until they were flat out fighting, using the whole salle's space, grinning like madmen.   


* * *

« I don't know if I'm watching a furious, double-murder attempt or the weirdest mating dance I've ever seen, » muttered Garen Muln from the observing room, looking down at the two fighters under them.    
  
They were  _ fast _ and a small part of the Jedi Knight actually wanted to get down there. That... seemed fun.   
  
« It's neither, » softly answered Bant Eerin, her eyes locked on the one who was wielding a lightsaber.   
  
It was green instead of blue, and following Soresu patterns instead of Ataru's, but apart from that, the scene was painfully familiar.   
How many times had they trained together when they were Initiates, and then Padawans ?   
  
« It's therapy. »   
« ...Could you explain  _ how _ trying to send each other to the Halls is supposed to be therapy, o mighty Healer ? » smirked Garen. « What I'm seeing seems to be a  _ reason _ to go  _ to _ a therapist. »   
« They will not end up at the infirmary, you oaf. They're too skilled for that. Moreover, they are soulmates, and there isn't a single sign of Discord. They will not hurt each other. They are proving to themselves that the other can fight. »   
« A single look at those kind of muscles is a proof for me, » said the Knight, pointing at the fighters' sweaty backs, clearly outlined either through drenched linen tunics or thanks to a close-fitting black suit.   
« Garen Muln, you are  _ crass _ . »   
  
They watched in silence for a time.   
  
« He... is so different, » finally whispered Garen.   
« No, he is not, » sighed his friend.   
« No, he is not. Still, he changed. »   
  
Bant nodded. They had been in the Temple for a week now, back from a Mid Rim mission, but they had not approached their former friend, though they had quickly learned he was there.   
That piece of information came with the chilling news that he had been the Assassin.   
  
« I still cannot... » The words came barely louder than a whisper out of Garen's mouth. « He killed Reeft. It looks like he probably hated it as much as we do, but... he killed him. »   
« I will need time as well. » sighed Bant, placing her hand on his arm. « I don't know if it's because I fear I cannot ever forgive him for that... or because I'm afraid I will. »   


* * *

It was only once they were soaked in sweat that Rex was able to begin to induce a slower pace, until they stopped at last, both of them breathing heavily.    
  
« Will you tell me what happened to anger you that much ? » he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.    
His leg was aching but in a good way.    
« Yes, but not here, » answered his miit'jorir, his eyes flicking briefly upwards before he shook his head. « We both desperately need a shower. »   
  
Chuckling, Rex followed him back to the cupboard the Jedi Order was calling a room. He slowly stretched his injured leg as Obi-Wan showered, carefully keeping his thoughts away from the sinful combination of pale skin and water.    
There were still settling with each other and there had not been any repetition of that heartfelt, desperate kiss on board of the  _ Terraform. _ _   
_ His miit'jorir was touch-starved and they spent long hours tangled with each other, bare chested more often than not as the sight of their soulmarks was a very soothing one for Obi-Wan, especially so if he could touch it, but it was more a matter of comfort than intimacy.    
Rex's mate was a beautiful man but if companionship and cuddles were all they would ever share, he did not see any problem with that. He did not  _ need  _ sex to be complete with the other half of his soul.   
  
Dreams, however, weren't that easily satisfied, and even if waking up to the very red face of his miit'jorir had been equally both amusing and embarrassing, he did not want to pressure Obi-Wan into anything he did not really want.   
So. No thinking about his mate in the shower.   
  
Once they were both clean, they ended up tangled in their usual way on the couch. They HAD perfectly good beds, slightly larger even, but for some reason, it was the couch they always ended up lying on.   
Since Obi-Wan was the worst kind of octopus Rex had even encountered, and the clone himself was not known for his motionless sleep, they often woke completely twisted and with very sore shoulders, neck and spines.   
And yet, they still did it.    
  
« I take it the discussion did not go smoothly, » started Rex, circling his arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders, crossing his hands over his soulmark.   
« No, » muttered the redhead, barely relaxing. « They did not dechip Cody, nor Kix and Jesse. »   
  
Rex startled, surprised. He knew about the biochip his miit'jorir had arranged to be removed from his own head as soon as he had been able to, knew that they weren't just inhibitors for the independance and stubborn streak their Original had.   
And, by the way, wasn't that the biggest pile of poodoo he had ever heard. The GAR was full of independent, stubborn bastards. Rex himself thought he belonged quite nicely into that category.    
Obi-Wan had explained that something else had been encoded into the biochips, something far more nefarious.   
  
« I became suspicious when I started to pay attention to your dreams, » he had confessed during that particular conversation. « I knew you were dreaming about my killings, but it made no sense for me to dream about  _ you _ killing the Jedi. Combined with the incomprehensibly low numbers of clones forming the GAR, and the experiment I was living myself, with orders on me able to strip me of my free will, it... it drew a very unpleasant picture. »   
  
One Rex could see as clearly as him. If the Sith Lord had somehow managed to have a hand in the crafting of the clones, had duped the Kaminoans and put those kind of orders in the chip inside every single one of his vode's heads, then the army was just one very big ticking bomb waiting to blow up in the Republic's face.   
  
« Why the hell not ? » he growled, thinking about his brothers. He had been sure that they, at least, would be safe. « They were here for more than two weeks ! »   
« Officially ? To stay under the radar. »   
« And unofficially ? » he snorted, the other notion ridiculous. Who cared about three clones with a headache among millions ?    
« Power play. Blackmail, maybe. Or it could just be astronomically high levels of stupidity and optimism, but I'm not sure I like that option better, » scowled Obi-Wan.    
  
They tried to rest, to let the matter settle, but they were far too angry, both of them, to find peace.   
  
« We need to call them, » finally decided Rex. « Especially Kix. If he is aware of that, he can search for a way to extract it on his own, and start to make a dent through the 501 st . It'd be something, at least. »   
« That... is not a bad idea at all, » perked up Obi-Wan, straightening slightly. « We need a secured comm. I have one, but you could use one as well. Come on, there's someone you must meet. »   


* * *

Qui-Gon had received a very helpful message on his comlink two hours ago, therefore, he was not surprised when a very irate Mace Windu called him.   
  
« Disappeared, again ? » he answered with a small smirk. « I'm sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, Cody and I are in no position to come back and run after Anakin's clone captain. Maybe we should strengthen the Temple's security. »   
« The Temple is not a prison, » growled Mace. « The guardians are here to prevent hostiles entering,  _ not _ sneaky bastards getting out. »   
« Then, Mace, I do not see the problem, » smiled the Jedi Master.    
« You have no right to be that damn smug, Qui-Gon. You know very well why I called you. »   
« Obi-Wan is no longer a Jedi. Even though I feel his torment could pass for his Trials well enough, you will never Knight him now that he has stepped into the Dark, and, more importantly, he does not  _ want _ to be one. You have no right upon him. »    
« He is the Assassin... »   
« Was, » strongly reminded Qui-Gon with a scowl. « Was, and against his will, I thought that had been made quite clear. Leave him the hell alone, Mace. He went outside with his soulmate and probably will come back once he has taken a breather. You cannot say to me the Temple has been very hospitable to him those last few days. Don't burst a vein over it. »   
  
Mace Windu's scowl was truly magnificent and Qui-Gon discreetly pressed the button to record it.    
  
« You and your whole lineage are an endless pain in my ass, » growled the Korun.    
« Thank you, I'll be sure to send your kind words to Master Yoda. »   
Mace snorted. « Please do. »   


* * *

Rex looked around him, uneasy. The shop was badly lit and filled to the brim with a strange mix of objects. Most of them would only appeal to smugglers, criminals or, as Rex spotted some dented and charred beskar'gam pieces, sick collectors.   
At least, they weren't any bucket there, or he would have snapped.   
The whole lot gave a very Dark feel to his senses, something he was a lot more sensitive to since Obi-Wan had used the Force while inside his body.    
  
« Rex, this is Thesh, » his miit'jorir said, gesturing to the man just coming out of a shadowed corner.   
  
The place's owner was as shady as his shop. His face was half hidden behind a long curtain of gray hair, but what Rex could see of it was heavily wrinkled. A white eye was bisected by a large scar, giving the man a very unsettling stare.   
He moved slowly, his pace uneven, and Rex could faintly hear the sound of servos. Prosthetics, then, and quite a few of them.   
The clone knew some brothers with those kind of replacements, Wolffe the first example coming to mind, so he could not pin his unease towards the bootlegger on that.    
  
Maybe it was the sharp, calculating look he sent towards Rex's soulmate. Maybe it was on purpose, something the man had wanted, playing on his body's mutilations to make his clients uneasy, to better swindle them.   
Or perhaps the man was just as slimy as his shop. Which, granted, was not very surprising for a criminal, but still.   
  
« Well, if it isn't my favourite Assassin, » drawled the old man, grinning at Obi-Wan. « Back for a transaction ? I'm sorry to say, I have not come across any lightsabers since the one you gave me for safekeeping. Those are hard to find. If you ever tire of it... »   
« I'll let you know, » snorted the redhead, though he was gripping the weapon at his side. « No, I'm looking for a secure comlink. »   
« Another one ? » The old man's eye darted from the shop's entrance to the shelves, then to the door again. « You did not already break or lose the one you bought, did you ? »   
  
Rex let the bargaining flow over his head, still uneasy. His miit'jorir was stressed as well, and while he would have placed most of the blame on the fact the bootlegger was calling him by his slave's name, he did not believe in coincidences.   
Something was not right.   
  
Obi-Wan was placing credits on the counter when Rex heard a small shuffle outside. A heavy, armored boot scruffing on the floor.   
He frowned, and his mate was suddenly alarmed as well, glaring at Thesh.   
  
« You betrayed me ? »   
« I'm sorry, Assassin, but I'm courting favors with bigger fishes, now, » answered the bootlegger with a mean smirk. « Since you're not a part of the Confederacy anymore... well, you're of no use to me. »   
  
With a snarl, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and swiped at him but the old man dodged with a cackle, falling through a hidden trap in the floor that closed behind him, just as blaster fire began to rain inside the shop.   
  
The following fight was one of the worst of Rex's life. Not the hardest, since his miit'jorir was protecting them from the bolts with his lightsaber, but because, once the walls were reduced to so much rubble, he could see their assaillants and they were  _ brothers _ .   
Except, there was not a single sign any of them recognized he was one, too.   
  
It was like Rex was trapped inside one of his nightmares, forced to fight against them. He did not want to hurt them, was shooting stunning bolts or disabling ones instead of kill shots, but they sure were doing their damnedest to kill them.   
It made no sense. They had not issued any kind of warning, any order to stand down. They were shooting at someone who was wielding the weapon of a Jedi, someone they should have identified as a General.   
Rex himself was sporting the very visible marks of a Captain on his armor, and he outranked every single one of them !   
  
This was the living, sickening proof of what Obi-Wan had told him. Those vode were not masters of their own bodies.   
  
Once the fight died down, Rex could only stare sadly as the ones he or his mate had not been able to avoid killing while fighting for their lives.   
His grief was echoed on his miit'jorir's face   
  
« Let's go, before others come, » whispered Obi-Wan. « I should not have returned. »   
  
Rex could feel the sadness, betrayal and anger coming of his mate in waves. He nodded.   


* * *

« Chips. Controlling chips in our heads, » came the stunned voice of Kix through the com.   
  
The only bright point of that disastrous visit had been Obi-Wan's quick thinking, as he had thought to grab the comm they had came to get in Thesh's shop in the first place.   
The redhead had thoroughly checked it before he allowed Rex to use it, though.   
The clone was quite sure that any of his more tech-loving brothers would unscrupulously attack him to get their hands of that little gem of encryption.   
  
« Yes. Be  _ discreet _ when you research it, Kix,  _ please _ , » he stressed quite heavily. « If it's a Sith's plot... »   
« Please, who do you take me for, Hardcase ? I can be subtle. I'll check this out and see what I can do. »   
« I owe you one, » Rex sighed, relieved.   
« You owe me nothing, idiot. I'm your medic, this is my  _ job _ . Though, if you insist, stay alive, and I'll call it even. You're having too many close-calls to my liking. »   
  
His grumpy vod hung up and Rex smiled, amused.   


* * *

Padmé was quite happy to finally be able to lie down on her bed and call it a day. A night, to be precise : that last chamber meeting had lasted way too long, and it was far past anyone's decent bedtime.    
She was thinking something between two to three a.m. though she would not check. She had to get up early, she did not want to see precisely how little sleep she had left.   
  
« Senator. »   
  
In the dark of her private rooms, the low voice made her jump. She whipped out the blaster hidden under her pillow, sitting straight, suddenly wide awake as she fired at the barely distinguishable shadow in the corner, next to the window.   
She had always been in the 'fire first, ask questions later' category when threatened, but it had clearly not been improved by her standing friendship with Jesse. She sent him powerful weapons, he sent her in return smaller but indetectable ones. Like the one she wore every day at the Senate, which had never been found by any kind of search or security-droids, or the one currently in her hand.   
  
The bright red blast illuminated the face of the intruder, and the surprised look on his face as he lifted a hand.   
Padmé was quite stunned to see the bolt, normally able to go through durasteel, be stopped by the man's vambrace.   
However, the flash of light had been enough for her to recognize him and she had to admit, she was glad that she hadn't just killed him, though quite incensed by his impoliteness.   
  
« Aaraysheb, what did you think you were doing ? » she growled. She knew this was the real body of the one that had inhabited Rex's for a time. « It's the middle of the night ! »   
« I'm sorry I startled you, » apologized the redhead, stepping closer so the light detectors could be triggered and brighten up the room. « It was not my intention. Though I'm pleased to see you're not defenceless. »   
« Next time, I'll have something able to go through cortosis, and we'll see who's defenceless, » she spat, her heart still in her throat. « You could have  _ called _ . »   
« I'm not taking any chances. »   
  
Sighing at the man's paranoia, she pointed her finger at him.   
  
« Go to the living room. Anakin swept it before he left, it should be free of any kind of spying device. Do your own turn to appease yourself, I'll join you once I'm decent, » she ordered.   
  
Aaraysheb inclined his head and left. Padmé remembered Obi-Wan, of course, Qui-Gon's Padawan had been an intelligent and brave young man when they met during Naboo's blockade and she had been saddened by his apparent death, but as long as the man would barge into her life like that, she would keep on calling him with that insightful description in Mando'a.   
With a sigh, she got up from her bed, chose a dressing gown from her large collection, put on slippers to warm her cold feet, and joined the impolite former-Assassin in the large, main room.   
  
He was crushing a small device in his hand and she sighed. That would exclude Senator Clovis from her list of trustworthy allies, and firmly put him in the undesirable category.    
Apart from Bail Organa, Okeer Ri Si-Lae and Mon Mothma, her list of trusted allies - those she felt could be of some help once she found what was wrong in the Chancellor's retinue - was rapidly dwindling.   
  
« Is that the only one ? » she asked, sitting on the couch.   
« Yes, your husband did quite a good job. This one is probably recent. »    
« Fresh from this morning, » she nodded.    
  
Aaraysheb took a seat and she could see the tension lining his shoulders, the mistrust he felt, not towards her but for the whole building.   
  
« Did you find anything, since we last spoke ? » he asked directly.   
  
He was  _ clearly not _ a politician.    
  
« Hints, only, » Padmé answered with a scowl. « There is definitely someone egging me on in the Chancellor's office, buying votes in my stead from unnoticeable worlds, easing the way for my bills to pass. If you had not said anything, I probably would have been too busy exploiting my 'good luck' to notice. »   
« Which is precisely why I warned you, » nodded Aaraysheb. « What are you doing with it ? »   
« Mostly ? Still am using the hell out of it. I'm not losing the chance to create a place for the clones among us once the war is done, and I hope they will deeply regret their choice to underestimate me. It's also the perfect way to quietly look for the rest, while they focus on my sudden, bulldozing approach. »   
  
The redhead smirked and she was sure he was approving. Well, good, she quite liked her new tactic herself.   
  
« And said 'rest' ? »   
« That's the slow part. » Padmé scowled, frustrated with how long it was to find evidence, though she knew it had to be so. « I can only do so much snooping on my own while staying under the radar. Sabé and Dormé are helping as well, they know how to remain unseen. Shmi is too, since most people here believe her to be the dumb, poor ex-slave that simply happens to be my husband's mother. They are not wary nor prudent around her, and she hears a lot of things. But for now, I am only sure that  _ someone _ is definitely helping the Sith along from the inside of the Chancellor's office. Nothing more. »   
« This is already a step ahead from your previous doubts, » noted Aaraysheb. « Now, you see that I was right, and your morals are doing the rest. However, you are right. It is too slow. Thankfully, I have something else for you. »   
  
Padmé sat straighter, frowning. Last time the man had 'had something for her', he unveiled a plot concerning the whole Senate.   
  
« Yesterday afternoon, Rex and I were attacked in a very shady pawnshop in Coruscant's lower-class area. The shop's owner betrayed me, and admitted he was trying to get into the good books of a 'bigger fish' than me. As far as he knew, I was the Assassin, Dooku's lieutenant. There are not a lot of bigger fishes than I was in the CIS hierarchy, » explained Aaraysheb.   
« Dooku himself, then. Or... » whispered Padmé, stunned by what at happened. How had she not heard any of this ? An attack in the planet's underground should have at least made the news, even with no explanation.   
« Or the Sith Lord himself, » confirmed the redhead. « And this is where it gets interesting : the ones that attacked us were clonetroopers. They wore red stripes. »   
« Coruscant Guards, then ? This is not unusual, they are charged with the planet's security, they patrol... »   
« They tried to kill us without issuing a single order. »   
  
Padmé's voice trailed out as she stared in complete bewilderment at Aaraysheb. Unless directly under life-threatening menaces, the clones Guards were  _ not _ supposed to fire to kill, but to disarm and stun.    
And no injection to surrender whatsoever ? That was  _ not _ how Commander Fox trained his men.   
  
« They are not many men able to give a whole squad a kill-order, Senator Amidala, and to make any trace of it disappear afterwards. »   
« You... you know who he is, » she stated, tasting bile at the back of her throat.   
« I'm quite certain of it, now, and I think you are starting to understand as well. However, I cannot go and confront him. For one, I'm pretty sure he is stronger than I am. But mostly, I cannot be sure I can kill him before he has time to trigger one of his certainly numerous back-up plans. He needs to be neutralized, stripped of his position of power before we act in such a way. »   
  
Padmé pinched her nose, noticing they were avoiding saying the man's name out loud. That... could be a good habit to take, especially as she saw him quite often. Sith Lords could not read minds, could they ?   
The first bombshell Aaraysheb had dropped in her lap had not been an easy one to deal with but this... this would not be easily solved. She needed absolute proof. And time was suddenly of the essence.   
  
« I'll do my best, » she said, her eyes suddenly made of steel as she made the promise to Aaraysheb. « If you can give me the time to do so, I'll reveal his identity to everyone. »   
  
The former-assassin's grin was terrifying, a bloodthirsty smirk.   
  
« I know you will. I trust you, » he confided, before he got up.   
  
Seconds later, he was not in the apartment anymore.   
  
With a long sigh, Padmé waved her sleep goodbye, and went to retrieve a small comlink, hidden in the fake-bottom of a drawer.   
Even if she had not thought she would ever use it, she had kept it after its owner gave it to her, by precaution.   
She pressed the only button on it and, a long minute later, the call connected.   
  
« What ? » asked a gruff voice, traces of sleep in it.   
« I'm calling in the favor you owe me, Fett. »    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*  
> You can come and yell at me on tumblr, too, I'm pumpkin-lith over there.


End file.
